


ghosts in the machine

by sybilius



Series: the winding road and the black river [3]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Addiction-Other, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An abusive amount of Jean-Paul Sartre references, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Art, Conspiracy, Depression, Detectives, Diners, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hacking, Justice, Letters, M/M, Mathematics, Multi, Mystery, Panic Attacks, References to Canon, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Technology, Two Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:24:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilius/pseuds/sybilius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years since the Kira case was closed, the fallout brings two (former) gods inexorably together, chained by their mutual humanity. A brutal mystery centered around a story of healing, truth, burdens carried, and learning the beauty in living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. man of a thousand faces

**Author's Note:**

> This story will reference parts of "burn this city" and "sword and the pen", but can likely be read independently (it's loosely intended to be canon with the reader's favorite "L-and-Light-fall-in-love-during-Yotsuba" fic). The inspiration for this fic came from the song "Genius Next Door" by Regina Spektor. Events from the song will weave in and out, but the story is its own monster. Official divergence occurs after Episode 23.

It’s a summer evening with a blood moon. The scent of wildflowers is sweet on the air (like caramel). The moon is a rich amber (reminding him of a damnable pair of eyes) as the eclipse passes over. The lack of murders in the town is killing him. But slowly. Just enough to make him beg for it.

He’s left himself in a sleepy, plain town just north of Sudbury. He's always found America distasteful, Canada being its drearier (normally less murderous) cousin. Not so much since two months ago, when a body had been found on the shore of the local lake, dead from a long-(thought)-gone strain of smallpox. The entire city had been put under quarantine for a week, but nothing. Not a single patient. This is the kind of case that attracts ghosts.

 Eraldo Coil has been on the case for just over a week, and he’s seven-percent certain of one of his suspects. There’s another that’s a two percent, and that uncertainty is simply unacceptable. (that’s what he would have said, by another name). L Lawliet keeps his appearance a few years older than his twenty-seven years these days. With the careful white in his hair, shabby jacket he has donned over the white shirt on his slight frame, he could be anywhere from age thirty-two to fifty. Here, they know him as William Eru, or Mr. Eru.

At one point he enjoyed doing fieldwork. Soon after, he discarded this idea. And now? It disguises him, even to himself.  He took a job as a busboy at a greasy spoon diner in town. At first it was to watch suspects for the case, but he's since kept it up, despite the lack of leads. The boredom keeps him numb (can't remember what it's like, not wanting numbness).

He wipes clean a splotch of ketchup (blood-like) on the edge of a Heinz label. His coworker, Noelle, a wisp of a girl with intense brown eyes and otherwise Nordic appearance smiles at him while mopping (something in her smiles remind him of a hungry ghost, but then, most things remind him of Light these days).

"All done for the day, Mr. Eru?"

"Yes, I suppose so," he allows his voice to quaver, "I think I will return to my puzzles."

"Oh? More Cryptic Crosswords? Or math?"

"Mathematics. Here, take a look.” Noelle had joined the kitchen only a few days after him, which pricked L’s suspicions for a moment (instincts dulled from trying so many days _not to feel_ ), "It's just a number theory problem."

She gazes at the question with interest. He watches the solution (which he has long since known) tick over her brown eyes. Yes, she certainly knows. He baits, “I’ve looked at this particular function, but I’m finding the number of solutions a bit tricky.”

“Oh, well you might consider the congruence of the discriminant…” she says absently before catching his eye.

“That’s very astute. I thought you said you weren’t much for mathematics?” At one point, catching a protegee unprotected like this brought an eager flash to L’s mind.

She very nearly glares at him, ugly (as unwilling to lose as Near, perhaps), “I liked number theory. My…uncle walked me through some of it.”

“You must have the soul of a mathematician.”

L gazes out the window, to the second (potentially related?) mystery in the town of Capreol. The local lake had grown thick with a white silt, velvety and almost indiscernible from the water. The local teens would crawl out looking like ghosts in the flickering light of the summer campfires. It was something of a point of derision for the locals, but something deep in L's instincts believed it to be related.

“On a different note,” L pushes the pen between his lips, scrutinizing her with the look he would have given Near or Mello (not that they would know it behind the L-covered smoke screen) when posing them a question about a case, “What do you make of the recent state of Marish Lake?”

"Oh, you mean The Porridge?" Noelle makes a slight face when she says it, "Yes, I suppose that is a bit of a mystery. I might blame it on peculiar erosion."

"Oh yes, but why now? There's no obvious cause.”

She arranges her features in a puzzled expression, "I don't know. It's very odd."

"Theorize."

"I'm not sure that I can." he senses fear skipping in her eyes, but a kind confidence and the glint of a challenge. _Yes, well. I’m sure she wasn’t taught to make this easy._

L sighs. If Wammy was going to keep tabs on him with such obvious plants, they might as well be of _some_ use. "I was just curious then. I'll see you at the late shift tomorrow."

"Good night, Mr. Eru!"

"Good night, Noelle." the door jingles as he enters the cool night air. L glances back at her with a kind of resigned depression. It used to be much simpler not to be found. But despite the fact that he’d given Wammy a hard look, told him with perfect coldness that he _wanted_ to be alone, that he _needed_ to have no one near him (no one touching him no one caring for him nothing to feel), he knew that he couldn’t hide from everything. (Knew but it didn’t stop him trying. There had to be a more permanent solution).  Certain people had gotten under his skin (and perhaps he’d gotten under theirs), and it was difficult to shake them off. _Difficult like the chain of a case two years cold that never broke free_.

It's only two blocks down to the rickety, shack-like house he's set up camp in. It suits his character, and L has always had a weakness for pathetic fallacy. It caused a smile on his lips a week ago, and now? Now he thought perhaps it suited him personally (suited the character he was far too comfortable in the skin of).  The house consists of three rooms, a drafty central room, a modest kitchen, and an upstairs bedroom much like an attic. L spends most of his time in the central room, hunched on the couch. The number of times he’s slept in a bed in the past two years can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

From the fridge he gathers a bowl of sugar cubes and strawberries. He gathers himself up around his laptop, lights a single candle to cast ghost-shadows around the room. With a flicker of his fingers he navigates through the Deep Web to arrive at the Qnetwork. The forums provide a live feed of every police agency, news agency, government-controlled surveillance in every major country in the world, and a few more that the major countries wanted watched.

L taps his fingers on a leather-bound copy of _The Grimm Fairy Tales_. He hadn’t been lying (L never lied to Wammy), when he had said he wanted to get away, do some reading. The truth of the matter was he couldn’t stay away. He perches on the couch side, and flashes past feed after feed, searching, leaving small comments that would take the police miles in their investigation, _faster_ one after the other, knowing the way people move, the way people hurt each other. Yes. He knows it all too well, and has for far too long.

* * *

 

_May 22, 2006_

_L._

_It's been two years now. Not ready. If I knew your name I would still write it at the top of every letter. Maybe I'd even keep writing the letters, long after you died. They might keep me alive._

_Life's hell without you, but I suppose it's always been that way._

_Light._

* * *

 

The centrifuge sends the contents of the test tubes on the last tilt-a-whirl cycle. Light Yagami carefully extracts the samples, filtering the suspension back and forth between his fingers. The polymerase chain reaction should be ready for tomorrow. That will make his client happy. Every time he gets contract work for something forensic, he wonders if it's a grey-eyed detective reaching out a pale hand for his. God, he misses those hands. It's enough to make him want to hole up in his apartment and write in his Death Note till his fingers can't take it anymore.

This is why he keeps the work. This is why he keeps his distance.

Light hunches over the samples, which will be ready for PCR analysis tomorrow. In all likelihood, this is for the New York Gonzo murder case. Prominent politician found dead of asphyxiation in New York apartment. Police have not provided  details, but theories have been swirling about his controversial proposals regarding climate, his history in government science, his fictional secret mistress, etc. etc.

A part of Light that's never fully died wonders what it would be like to strangle someone, and his thoughts inexorably flit to L's gorgeous neck. Squeezing it, kissing it, leaving his fingerprints as marks there. He shuts the kit harder than normal.

Light cleans up the lab bench with meticulous care. His colleagues have since long gone home, on a summer Friday night. His cell phone rings as he packs up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, big brother!”

“Hello Sayu,” Light manages to muster some enthusiasm, “How is school going?”

“Oh, good, yeah. Well, okay. I miss having you to help me work on my homework,” he can almost hear her biting her lip, “How is the lab work?”

“Quiet,” he says tersely.

“Oh yeah? No interesting murder cases?”

“It’s mostly biology, Sayu. Genetics,” Light hasn’t bothered with his perfect mask since he started rereading the names in his Death Note every other night. The decision hadn’t gone well with his family, who believed they had lost their son. The son they never had.

“Will you visit soon? I think Dad wants to see you.”

“No. Not yet. And if he wants to see me, nothing is stopping him.”

“Okay. Should I visit you?”

“Just…focus on school Sayu.” He pulls his jacket over his neck.

“Okay. Love you, Light.”

“Bye.” He hangs up, leaving the silence of the lab behind.

As he's done on every Friday sunset for two years, Light slips into an alleyway on his walk home, the low sun casting a long shadow behind him. He succumbs to the urge to imagine a person next to him, a low chuckle, the scent of cherry cake. Once a week, it's healthy. Once a week, he also thinks about killing that person, if they're still alive. For as long as that symmetry exists, doesn't shift, he will stay where he is. His feet carry him to the base of the city radio tower. Checking his watch to note when security will arrive, he slips in the back door with ease.

It's funny, how he can get the ghost of L's memory to stand with him up here. Funny since while he was Kira, he was captivated by the image of L on this tower, himself opposite. Staring down. Waiting for the other to fall. He certainly hadn't planning on crossing the distance, hadn't thought that a mere month of memories could change so much about his divine certainty in Kira. God, there was so much that he'd realized he had never known.

"But here you are." L's ghost whispers, and yes, as much as it has cost him, as much as he is still bloody and broken, angry and murderous, he is here, honest, clean.

It's every week here he also thinks about falling, but L always stops him. Light wonders when he will stop resenting L for it, and start to be grateful. That will be the day he makes contact again.

"Quite the sunset tonight, isn't it?" Light starts upward to a voice that is decisively _not_ in his head, someone else with him for the first time. The man is tall and skinny, dressed in only a vest and looking like a two-bit mafia pimp. His golden hair is neat at his jawline, hid hands, wrapped around a bar of chocolate.

"Oh my god," Light breathes out his surprise, "you could kill someone like that. Who the hell are you?"

"If I said 'security'--"

"I wouldn't believe you for a second." Light lets the anger show in his voice.

"How about if I said, someone else here to live?"

"You think I'm here to die?"

"Well I know what this looks like," and damn if the stranger wasn't perceptive. Light tried to mask over his tells, but he can still feel ghost-L fading gaze on him. He's always been vulnerable here.

"I come up here every week," Light isn't sure why he's giving this stranger his honesty, but there's something about the intensity of his scrutiny that reminds him of L. Just another thing to add to that damn list.

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"Not one I'm interested in telling."

"That's fair."

"I'm assuming you're not up here to watch the sunset."

"I'm surprised no one else has spotted you up here."

"People aren't really that observant," There's a bitterness in that, and the other man laughs.

"You're not wrong." They fall into silence. It's comfortable, actually. The young man seems to have an instinct not to push it. Light hasn't felt comfortable with another human in two years.

"Hey," the other man gives him a gentle smile after a moment, "My name's Mello."

"Light." they shake hands for a moment. Mello can't be more than eighteen. Light is suddenly curious, "what brings you up here?"

"Apart from stopping potential suicides?" Light flinches, and he can tell Mello notices, "Just enjoying the sunset."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Light's voice is cold. He's said too much, "I was just leaving."

"I should get going too," Mello's eyes meet his, "My boyfriend wanted me home early."

Light's face makes a complicated expression as his heart twists, "Yeah, I've got to go home to my girlfriend as well," That's a lie. Every lie that Light manages causes his stomach to churn against memory.

They walk down the staircase in silence. Mello taps him on the shoulder at the base of the stairs, "Hey. This might be your thing, coming here every week, but if it ever gets bad for you, or you need someone to talk to...well, people tell me I'm good at that sort of thing."

"You?" Light gives him a skeptical look, but he can sense in his heart that the man isn't wrong, "I'm fine. But I appreciate it."

"Here's my number. Just call anytime, Light. And maybe we can hang out, under less…strange circumstances."

"Right," Light takes the card, neatly printed Garamond text on heavy ink.

"I'm sure whatever you're looking for in the sunset is out there."

Light is surprised that he doesn't want to strangle this man. He looks Mello in the eye and says, "Thank you."

It occurs to Light later that evening, as he prepares dinner in his Spartan apartment, that's the first time he's thanked someone in two years. As he stirs the minestrone soup, he is hit by a sudden wave of sweet melancholy. _I wish I could thank him again._ He waits for the poisonous wave ofanger that follows, but nothing comes. Spooning his soup into a porcelain bowl, he sits down at the desk. From the hidden drawer underneath the keyboard, he slips out the _Death Note_. Removing his pen, he writes.

_L,_

_I wanted to thank you. For-_

He stops, staring at the words. They seem insufficient. He flips through two years worth of letters in the Death Note, all full of vitriolic kindness and amorous fury. Some days he barely writes at all. Some days he writes twice a day. Some days he just writes the letter L, over and over, trying to burn black eyes out of his mind. Some days, he cries.

But today, the words don't come easily. They're stuck in his throat, can't make it to the pen. His fingers track to his watch, _I think...today might be the day._ It's funny. He'd always imagined it differently, that he'd wake up and just _know_ in one tantalizing flash of the certainty he had before. He feels no different.

Kira has been inactive for almost two years now. Light hasn't killed since he wrote Kyosuke Higuchi in the Death Note, in his own blood. He kept it in his watch as a reminder of the sin that is so easy. Of the blood-price paid to protect his greatest lie. He is no better than Higuchi. But a choice was made.

He clicks the watch twice. The face opens to reveal a piece of the Death Note, with a phone number scrawled in spidery, almost illegible handwriting. So many times he had stared at that number, held himself back from dropping it off the radio tower, tearing it up, burning it. _As if it isn't burned into my memory._

Light imagines L, alone on the radio tower, hunched and watching the city. His raven hair brilliant against the sunset, one finger pressed against his lip, waiting for a _Kira_ that never returned. He suddenly wants so badly to stand there with him. With shaking hands, he pulls out his phone and dials. It rings, once and only once.

"Hello," the voice on the other line is modulated through L's usual filter. Light forgets to breathe, almost considers hanging up. But he's come too far now.

"L? This is Light."

"I'm sorry, but this is not L."

A wash of ice shivers down his spine, "What?"

"L is no longer with us. This is N." Light’s throat suddenly closes up, there isn’t nearly enough oxygen, "Did you have information for us?"

He hangs up the phone without a word. Words don't come, he simply _feels_ , in a rush of anger, gorgeous memories drawing ink pictures over his mind, bleeding into his throat, thick with emotion. _How dare he. How dare he fucking die without my word, how dare he leave me with this fucking mess that I'm in because of him._

Light is walking blind now, sprinting across streets with barely a glance at traffic. Reckless. He doesn't know if he's running back to the tower to scream or fly, but he has to see L again, if only in the ghost of memory. _If someone killed him..._ the murderous part of Light latches on the pages and pages of stopped hearts in the Death Note, or perhaps, one intimately detailed, exquisitely painful death. Retribution.

The summer sky is dark when he arrives, breathless but not bothering to take in air. The streetlamps cast ghastly shadows like Shinigami, and he almost believes that Ryuk is behind him. Not a single ghost.

He fumbles at the heavy tower door when a shadow crosses over him.

"Light. Don't panic. L isn't dead."

Light is unable to stifle the terrified sob that rips from his throat. He breathes in and out, trying to prevent the panic from taking over. "Who the hell are you?"

Light looks up, and he's face to face with Mello. The man gives him a bracing gaze. "I'm sorry that it happened this way. I truly didn't mean for all of this. I knew you could help. "

Light can't think, too many words, questions are whirling through him. His knuckles grip white. He barely resists the urge to break Mello's jaw.

"Who. Are. You." Light levels him with the terrifying glare of murder.

"I worked with L. I'm one of his successors," Mello's voice is calm, but it wavers on his last words, "We need you to find him."

* * *

 

_L. L. L. LLLLLLLLL._

_November 5, 2004._

_I want your name so I can write it over and over again. I would give you death in flawless detail._

_Thank god I don’t have it because I know I would and then I’d burn the world because you wouldn’t be in it._

_You understand me and I never asked for that. I never wanted to know I was rotten with the world._

_I fucking hate you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's entirely likely that every chapter will have a song title-- one big (mostly Regina Spektor) playlist.  
> No, I'm not sorry :)
> 
> Please comment and leave feedback! I know this is pretty exposition-heavy for a first chapter, so let me know how you felt about the mood, pacing, etc. It will become less reflective and more breakneck as time goes on, although I do promise you answers for what has happened in the two years gone.


	2. head to headstone

The Pacific glimmers in the morning sunrise. Light sips his glass of orange juice. They've been flying for nearly five hours, after he packed a bag with a few necessities, the minimum of clothing, placed a single apple on his window-sill, and joined Mello in the Rolls-Royce driven by someone who was not Watari. The experience was so surreal. But then, he had forgotten what life lived at L's speed was like.

They haven't said a word the entire flight. _This successor... how is he connected to L? How long has he been training?_ Light is hollowed out, tacit, going through the motions. But he wants answers.

"Where is L?"

"If I knew, would I be here?" Mello snarks, before he can stop himself, "He left. Eight months ago, actually."

"Why did he leave?"

"That's a complicated question. And if I knew the answer, I probably wouldn't need you either."

"So you need me." It's a statement, and Mello doesn't deny it. "Tell me why L is in danger."

Mello almost winces there, and a flicker of worry passes through his eyes, "I can't, not here. I promise, N will explain everything when we arrive at headquarters."

Light's face twists ugly, but instead of protesting, he decides to try for a nerve, "So he's the one in charge here."

"We both are." Mello's voice is calm, but there is a flash of something dark in the back of his pupils.

"Then, tell me this. Why me?"

"L himself has told Watari that he believed you to be by far the most capable individual to succeed him," Mello bites sharply into a bar of chocolate, "L gravitates towards those who think like him. We believe you have the best chance of finding L when he doesn't want to be found, even if you are a suspect."

And Light cannot help the flash of pride that runs through him at the comparison, but he keeps focus, "A suspect for a case that has been closed for two years?" in a flash Light realizes, "you believe that whatever has L in danger is connected to Kira."

"N believes there is a distinct possibility."

"It's very bold of him to bring me in then. It's exactly what L would do." L could almost feel L's hand, pulling on the chain for him. _Bastard, I miss you._ The thoughts come almost simultaneously.

"No, that was my idea," Mello fixes him with a half-admiring, half-melancholic stare that Light very badly wants to turn away from, "I don't think L was wrong about you. In fact, none of us do. But there's a reason Kira stopped killing.” Mello pauses for a moment.

“Just like there's a reason why you left."

Lights fist connects with Mello's jaw, anger overwhelming him before he is able to form thoughts. Mello stands, Light prepares for retaliation, but the other man simply looks away, fingers something in his pocket. When his breathing evens out, Light speaks, "you don't know a damn thing about me."

"Maybe not, Light Yagami. But L does. And that's what I'm counting on."

They fall into silence, Mello rubbing his mouth ruefully. Light has an itch in his fingers to _write_ , but he gets up to the small refrigerator to get something to eat. Inside are a variety of elegant confections that make his chest ache. In defiance, he selects a cherry-almond cake, swallows through the lump in his throat. He suddenly wants nothing more than to get to work, _find L so that nothing can touch him_ , and his fingers tangle nervously.

“Okay. How do I start looking for him?”

“You’ll need the data we have at headquarters. I can’t give you access to it,” at Light’s sharp glare, Mello holds up his hands, “I mean what I say, no one can grant access to the Qnetwork but Matt. Once you have access, though, you’ll have what you need. Well, as far as locating goes. I don’t know anything about your aptitude in fieldwork, but I might be able to give tips.”

“Fieldwork?” Light thinks a moment, “Of course, L will be in disguise.”

“Exactly. Whether or not you choose to disguise yourself is up to you.”

“I won’t be.”

“That’s your decision. Although it might be a dangerous choice, depending on where L is.” Light says nothing to this.

“Light,” Mello speaks after some time, softly, “I meant what I said. I’m sure that L is out there. And I’m almost positive he wants to be found by you.”

That’s simply too bittersweet a statement to  respond to, so Light instead plucks the cherry from the remains of his cake, and tries to taste the memory of discerning grey eyes looking at him with interest. He swallows the sugar against the tang of bloodlust. 

The rest of the flight passes in silence. When they land, the skyline is easily visible as San Francisco. They depart the private jet, with a sleek black limousine waiting for them outside the airport. The city passes by in a blur of steep hills on the edge of something tangible. Something dangerous. Light can't wait to get to work. _It’s been so long since I worked on something real, something challenging._

The car stops in front of an innocuous looking toy shop. Smiling Lego figurines stand still amongst stacks of blocks. Mello strides in, whispers something to the shop owner, who proceeds to lead them to a dark room in the back. Mello peels off a light switch to reveal a fingerprint interface, which he offers his own for.

"Impressive security."

"N likes to be careful. Especially now that we're centralized. Your finger, please."

Light winces as Mello pricks it suddenly, depositing both blood samples into a drawer in the interface. It flickers, and an elevator slides out. They stand in silence. The facility must be very deep.

When it opens, they are in an expansive room, with lab benches, communication feeds, and a wall of screens depicting live news and surveillance.  

In the center of a room is a teenage boy, likely around fifteen, building a matchstick model. His white hair shimmers in the glow of the televisions, and his body is a slight, long line, much like L’s but without the undertone of muscle. Mello immediately steps past Light to kneel beside the boy, who gives him a soft kiss on the lips. _Oh. So Mello wasn’t lying about the boyfriend_. Light’s heart twists uncomfortably. Mello says a few things in a quiet voice while the boy adds a few more matches to the Golden Gate bridge.

“Light Yagami,” the boy states without turning from his model, “Thank you for joining us.”

“N,” Light feels his old instincts creeping up, the desire to put on a mask. He stays silent. It seems to impress N, who abandons his model to give Light a discerning glance.

“Your file indicated you were usually more forthcoming than this.”

“Oh?” Light states coldly, resisting the challenge to _play the game_ with this boy who so reminds him of L’s dangerous intelligence.

“Yes. It also indicated that we shouldn’t believe you as such. The question is now, can we believe you.”

“It’s not as if I’ve given you any information.” Light deadpans.

“You would be surprised by what qualifies as information,” Near extends his fingers, which Light grasps for a moment, “You may call me Near. Myself and Mello are the current successors to L, and head of the Qnetwork, an international detective organization built from the graduates of the Wammy House.”

Light nods, “Now tell me, Near, why now? If it’s been eight months since L left _freely_ , what danger is he in?”

Near glances at Mello, questioning, then his face twists, “Mello, what happened to your face?” There is purple blossoming at Mello’s jaw. Near immediately glares sharply at Light.

“It’s nothing, Near. It was my fault really.”

“It’s not nothing. What happened?”

“I punched him,” Light deadpans, “now can you move on and answer my question?”

Near’s eyes flash murderous for a moment, but Mello squeezes his shoulder and he relaxes, “It’s better that you’re focused on the case. The Qnetwork is more than an intelligence group for international justice. It is also a network in the truest sense of the word, existing on the internet and providing invaluable information to our operatives. Just a few weeks ago, we discovered a leak, a hole in our information so subtle, we are not even certain where it began. Certain files are missing. We have been able to contact our other operatives of the danger, and now the Qnetwork is operating under…less true information. We believe that keeping the network active will allow us to catch this individual.”

“But L is still working on the Qnetwork.”

“Exactly. Our operatives are anonymous on that network, under a series of untraceable pseudonyms. All of them are adept in concealing their location, but L is an expert. And he made it clear that he did not want to be found, although it’s abundantly clear that he’s still at work.”

"You’ve identified closed cases that fit his style? Fine. Can’t you track him based on that?”

“It’s not a simple game we’re playing. L has a particular intelligence, as you know doubt know from working with him,” Light notes a slight overtone of anger to Near’s words, “Identifying his M.O. is simple enough that Matt could likely come up with an algorithm to identify likely cases. However, only myself or possibly Mello could ascertain which parts of the investigation, if any, require L to be physically present. And that does not guarantee we can locate him. Seeing as investigating the leak to the Qnetwork is our first priority we were forced to think…creatively in order to find L.”

“You’re leaving the head of this organization’s life in the hands of a primary suspect for a case?” Light is somewhere between aghast and furious at the risks they are taking with _L_ ’s life.

“L left. And we are left to do best what we see fit in the meantime. Do not make the mistake of thinking L’s is the only life on the line.”

“If that’s true, then I want to know what the details of this case are, what L could be facing.”

“Do you think we’d give that information to a suspect?”

“If you’re bringing me on to this investigation.”

“Find L, and bring him back. Then we might consider bringing you on to the case,” Near smirks, “It should be easy, given that he’s waiting for you to find him.”

Light _knows_ Near is baiting him, but can’t resist can’t resist snapping, feeling reduced to a pawn, "What makes you think he wants to be found by me?"

"Mello thinks so," Near's features arrange in a look of admiration, a hint of jealousy, and softness, "Mello is rarely ever wrong about people and their motivations."

“And you think he can predict my motivations? That I can help L? He's wrong.”

Near fixes him with an indiscernible gaze, "He thinks you're the best chance we have. He also thinks it might be the best chance for you, Light Yagami."

 _Those fucking pretentious god-playing bastards!_ Light opens his mouth to spit something angry when a goggle-wearing teenager with a mop of red hair bursts into the room.

“I’m back, punks!”

“Matt, this really isn’t the tim—“ Near’s words are cut short as Matt crushes his lips in a passionate kiss. Light can’t stop his jaw dropping as Near resists, then responds, pulling away with reddened lips. He huffs, “We’re working.”

“You’ve missed me.”

“Yes. Now did you get the information I requested?”

“Of course! “ Matt grins, “no one can hack tracelessly. I dug it back to the Kira-cultists, although there are some interesting connections to immune research—“

“Not right now Matt, full report later,” Near glaces pointedly back at Light, but Matt's eyes shift delightedly to Mello.

"That's a nasty bruise, Mells," Matt swoops over, lands a kiss on his jaw.

"Light has an impressive straight punch."

Matt gives him an appraising look, "should I be defending your honour? An eye for an eye, as our fearless and former leader would say?"

Light's lips twitch in spite of his confusion. There's something about the brazenness of Matt’s approach that reminds him of L. _God, the whole lot of them have L in everything they say and do. Or maybe that’s just my imagination._

“It was really my fault, Matt, I drew first blood, just not with my hands.”

Matt nods seriously, “I’m surprised Near didn’t punch him right here.”

“Not that it would have done too much, we really need to work on his form.”

“Be quiet Mello,” Near jumps in with an annoyed tone, but affection sparkles in his eyes, “We have more important things to worry about.”

“Right you are, boss,” Matt winks at Near, and turns to Light, removing his goggles, "Hey, I'm Matt, resident tech expert here at Wammy's and secondary to these two gorgeous creatures. You can take the judge-y from off your face anytime, and yes, I know I'm a lucky bastard."

"Or slightly insane," Light smirks as he shakes Matt's hand.

"Oooh, he is as sharp as the files say."

“Matt,” Near intones, “I need you to show Light the facilities he has access to. I’m sure he will want to begin his investigation as soon as possible.”

“Right this way then,” Matt gestures to the steel doors, “I’ll have you hooked up with the data and tracking down the old boss in no time! Here, let me show you the work I’ve already put out for this little project…”

Light allows himself to be ushered out of the main room without a backward glance. The cool hallways slide past. _This isn’t over, Near. I will find L. And when I do--_  Light almost stops in his tracks, and Matt gives him a questioning stare.

“It’s nothing,” Light keeps his face blank, and continues walking into uncertainty, willingly, blindly.

 

* * *

 

_November 7, 2004_

_I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I know you know something is wrong, you’re looking at me like there’s truth in the Kira in my eyes and you’re not wrong._

_I can’t leave, I can’t stay._

_Stop giving me those resigned looks, it’s killing me, it’s killing me that all I want to do is kill you, it’s killing me that all I can do is hold you tight at night while you tear me up with your questions during the day. I know you still suspect me. Would it help if I told you are right?_

_I don’t know why I’m asking these stupid fucking questions._

_Light_

* * *

L can’t sleep (although this is hardly new information). He crunches his icy feet into the rough blanket, running data from the case over and under and back. Suspect 89% (formerly Suspect 7%, who in all honesty was always the likeliest option) flickers under his eyelids, an ambitious scientist with heavy-set fire in her eyes. It doesn’t quite fit that her research is in nuclear physics, but knowledge is easy to acquire, shaking off the hunger for knowledge (whatever the cost), less so. Suspect 2% is definitely dangerous, the rackety, wild-eyed and twitchy young man far too smart for this small town (and calm despite that, what is he waiting for?).

L sits up suddenly, an inspiration ripping through him. He strikes a match, flaring light into the room, pulls out the laptop from under the bed, assuming his usual birdlike stature on the couch. He crunches a lump of sugar, opening up the forums to add a quick note.

" _In addition to the recommendation for full surveillance on Carla Michels, it would be of particular importance to seek access to the security feeds and blueprints for the Sudbury Neutrino Observatory.”_

Yes, this was so very close, all that was needed now was one last piece of evidence. With the excitement (frenetic and overwhelming against the grey) came a thick, anxious feeling of the edge. Not the usual way a case came to close to an end-- but a sensation of believing the maze to be almost over when this turn would, in fact, run deeper into danger. He's known that feeling only once before (over a cup of tea with six sugars and a soft touch), and has no business feeling it (or anything) again. After a moment, he adds an addendum, a breadcrumb trail.

_“Though the investigation seems quite indiscernible, I suspect this may be the flash of sun on this cold, dark sea.”_

 He shuts the laptop with a snap, and reaches for his book. It opens to "The Story of a Boy who went Forth to Learn Fear”, titled next to a grotesque illustration of a ghost in a bell tower (too much of a coincidence to ignore. Life is laughing at him). L tenses back into the couch, wraps the blanket closer around him. Shivers against the words on the page. The flit of the shadows from the candle are hypnotic.

L is seized by a strange combination of terror and serenity. The flame dances. He suddenly wants nothing more than to see it grow, expand, rise. Show him what is meant by fear (give it a color, bright and gorgeous, not grey). He absently rips out the second page of the story, ignoring the eerie silence (lack of thought, lack of _being_ ) in his mind.

The flames are soothing as they lick the page, consume it into ash. The warmth reaches his hand, bites it gently, then sharply, and he drops the page suddenly, sucking at the burn forming on the side of his hand. For a split second he watches the page flutter to the ground, then adrenaline seizes him as it hits the dry floor carpet, igniting immediately. _Shit._

His old speed pushes him to the fire extinguisher, he fumbles with the spray as the blaze bites into the meat of the rug. An alarm sounds as the extinguisher kicks in, smothering the fire neatly into nothing.

L breathes hard, then drops the fire extinguisher, goes limp on the couch. The burn on the side of his hand throbs dully. _Then, I suppose, I am not the boy who cannot feel fear._ And this, he knows to be good (but blackens against it) as he blows out the light and tries to force sleep into his eyes.

The unforgiving morning takes far too long to arrive, and when it does, there's new information on the forums. A murder (after all this time? Why now?). The victim is a young woman, and L notes with the barest hint of satisfaction her position within government-funded research at the Neutrino Observatory. He opens the case files.

 L felt his throat close up, his body respond to the images that appear on the screen. The autopsy stated that the death had been from asphyxiation, but her wrists have been slashed almost identically to the way another ghost, _Adeline_ had let herself bleed out in the bathtub of the Wammy House (coincidence? the logical part of his mind can’t be heard over the screams in his ears).

L staggers out into the bare sunrise, needing air, shaking all over. He closes his eyes, wills himself to take in oxygen, crosses the street, has to take a breath leaning his hand on the rusty dumpster in the parking lot. Ready, set, go. He catches sight of the beach on the edge of the soupy white lake, and staggers towards it.

Red under the rising sun, L Lawliet curls into a small ball on the cool sand. It takes him a long time to sit up (fighting the memory, perhaps he deserved it, surely he deserved it). After yet more minutes, a shadow crosses next to him, sits cross legged. Noelle.

“Hey.”

L says nothing. She scrutinizes him, but he doesn’t want her calculating eyes, turns away.

“I guess you heard about the murder.”

L nods slowly, “Awful.” he manages.

“Yes,” she replies without intonation, then drives a fist into the sand.

“You’re angry.” he observes.

“Yes.”

They sit together for a moment. In a distant flash, L has an instinct to push for more data, so he asks “Why?” (without knowing why he asks).

 “It’s just…” she looks into the distance, “I’m angry because I want to see this person _caught_ , this murderer brought to justice.”

“Did you know the woman?”

“I had only heard of her. Small town, although I haven’t been here very long.” the way she throws the stone into the water is… _staged_ in its bitterness (L is sick of seeing Light in the movements, so he closes his eyes.), “I guess I’m angry because it reminds me of my mother, and the way she died. Her murderer was never caught either.”

He doesn't believe a single word of her story (he wants to, but he isn’t about to start _after two years_ ). If she’s trying to console, it’s clumsy at best (hurtful at worst). He places a hand over his eyes, trying to shove the memories back into the neat shelves where they belong (locked, don’t open that box).

“Hey,” she says, and she shines with a sincerity that seems too cloying, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure whoever is on the case will find this person and stop them.”

A wave of guilt gathers in L’s throat, and he stand suddenly, “I should go. I’ll see you at the diner later.”

“Mhm, I’ll see you.” Noelle’s eyes are shaded, staring out into the sunrise, but L doesn’t see them. Memories play on loop, and the only light that can blot them out is the glow of his laptop screen, the faded addiction, and nights black with eyes that can’t find sleep.

 

* * *

_May 12, 2006_

_L,_

_I finally read La Nausee. You’re laughing at me right now, laughing at my persistence, my insistence on perfection in a world of nothingness, of existence, nothing more._

_It was a beautiful read, I’ll probably read it again tonight. I really hate you._

_If I think about jumping in the abyss…well, it’s too late. I already thought, didn’t I? Or I didn’t._

_That’s why I’m here, isn’t it._

_Light_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that was a happily fast turnover :) I think it's because Matt/Near/Mello are compulsively writable. And sassy. They'll be around :)
> 
> Light references a line from La Nausee in the last letter, that line is this:
> 
> "It's quite an undertaking to start loving somebody. You have to have energy, generosity, blindness. There is even a moment right at the start where you have to jump across an abyss: if you think about it you don't do it."
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious, Adeline is A. More on this later. I always preferred the interpretation that s/he could be female. 
> 
> Finally, snolab is a very real and very awesome place, check it out here https://www.snolab.ca/. Descriptions of its activities in this story will be completely fictionalized. For the record, the research they do there is completely benign as it amounts to using very large and terrifying-looking equipment deep underground to detect very very very very light particles moving through water. Exciting stuff for physics!
> 
> Chapter title comes from the song "It only gets much worse" by Nate Ruess, which is perhaps a bit too deliberately angsty to describe this entire chapter, but there is an essential undertone of truth there. 
> 
> Comments, feedback are welcome and make me happy <3 let me know how you feel about the mystery, let me know how you're feeling about the story, style, Death note, your favourite book, whatever :)


	3. genius next door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Hallucinations, suicide attempt. If you are vulnerable, take care of yourself <3

As three of the world’s greatest detectives, L lived up to his reputation. He was extremely good at covering his tracks. Light grinds his teeth on the second day with no leads, as he spins through the list of posts that Matt's algorithm had filtered, grotesque and selfish crimes flashing past his eyes. _God, there are a lot of people that the world would do better without_ , the thought comes like a phantom in his ear, then with an addendum, _and you would be one of them._ He steels against that thought and keeps scrolling. The dates are widely spread.

Things he has learned in the past few days: L almost always comments exactly twice, that the case is almost always solved less than a week after he comments, and that he has an odd propensity for quoting literary works in his posts (the main basis of the algorithm, though there are also some parameters for the type of case in question that Near specified). L has solved more than forty cases in the past eight months. _You just can't stay away, can you?_ In a flash, the first four months of resolving not to write in the Death Note rush back, and Light can't blame L. _I would have gone back if I could have believed even half a reason to._

"Any progress from the mysterious oracle?" Matt stands in the doorway of the dimly lit office.

"No," Light sets his jaw. The best he's managed is two cases that _probably_ required L to be present. Not guaranteeing he wasn't having someone act as his eyes.

"Well, I brought you food," Matt places a plate next to Light, "you should probably sleep a bit. You're kind of as bad as Near. Or L." He shakes his head suddenly, "Oh man, I'm starting to sound like old man Watari."

Light takes a bite ruefully, smoked salmon and cucumber on ciabatta. He suddenly becomes aware of how hungry he is, and wolfs down the sandwich.

"Jeez, slow down, I haven't practiced my Heimlich maneuver in a while." Matt sits down on a chair at the adjacent desk in the small office, putting his feet up.

Light finishes the sandwich, giving Matt a flat look, "don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Now is that any way to thank someone who brought you a sandwich?" Matt snarks, but he seems at ease, "Nah, I'm waiting for some tests to run. Besides, the old man thinks someone should keep an eye on you. I guess you should thank him for the sandwich."

Light doesn't reply to that, cross checks the matches from the past few days. He sets the algorithm to run in the background. _If L works the same way he always has, he's probably still investigating at three in the morning._

"So...can I ask you something?"

"I get the sense that I don't have much choice in the matter," Light steels himself for questions about Kira, hoping his suspect's poker face hasn't completely deteriorated.

"What's L like?"

That isn't the question Light expects, "You haven't met him?"

"Well, it depends on what you mean by 'met', but I've never seen him, no. Mello is the only one who really has. Well, other than Watari, and Near remembers someone reading to him from Grimm's fairy tales that Mello is convinced was L. Not that Near likes to think about it. L stopped showing his face around Wammy's after the shitshow that was A and B. Not that I know too much about that, just what Mells has told me."

"Oh," Light opts to pretend he knows what’s meant by that, "I see. Well, he's...amazing."

"No shit Sherlock," Matt rolls his eyes, "But what's he like to work with?"

"Intense. He never lets up. He's very...psychological, but then his reactions are very logical. And he's got all these little tics, too," to Light's surprise, it's easier to share the memories rather than suffer with them, "he's always putting his thumb, just there when he's thinking very deeply about something. He's also pretty brazen, and never hesitates to say whatever he's thinking, which is usually either brilliant or completely inane."

Matt's grin is rapt, "Awesome. So is it true he eats nothing but sweets?"

"Yes, it's true...I once saw him put sugar cubes in a cup of coffee till nothing was in it _except_ the sugar."

"Haha, no way! You know, Mells started the chocolate thing because he was _obsessed_ with L," Matt's smile goes softer, "I mean, L is pretty important to him. He's taught us all so much. Mells is pretty worried about him."

"I am too," Light swallows.

"Hey, keep your chin up. If he survived B and Kira, well, I'm sure he'll be able to see whatever this is coming," Matt's grin fades a bit, "wish he was around to tell me the ten security issues I missed. No joke, he used to send me bi-weekly programs in _Lisp_ to run against the Qnet, always finding some-hole-or-other. After the Kira case, he slowed down a bit."

"Yeah." Light turns away, keeps his eyes shaded.

"You two were close then, huh,"

"We were." Light's thoughts flash back to foil-wrapped peanut butter cups, to the temptation that began it all. And to the sharp conversations that tore up his perfect world. Righteous anger swells against regret. _Was it a mistake to come here, to find L?_ Light presses red crescents into his palm, raw. The truth is, _he_ couldn't stay away.

 Matt looks like he wants to ask another question, then thinks better of it.

"Well, let me know if you connect any dots," He turns to go.

"Wait," a sudden inspiration from memory strikes Light, "can you do something for me? I'd like to see the filtered list of posts represented as a graph structure."

"Like, literally connect the dots?" Matt raises an eyebrow, "you really are stuck for ideas, eh?"

Light glares, but says nothing. _Maybe it's a long shot-- but L always did like strange... patterns._ A few lines of code later, spidery lines trace themselves over a world map on the screen. Light scrutinizes them for a moment, a familiar memory struggling to surface. "Can you identify Petersen graph structures?"

"Hmm, give me a sec," Matt types up a new function, the clatter of his type filling the room, "you know, I thought you were just grasping at straws, but you might actually have something here..."

The code compiles, runs, and the entire spider-graph lights up in patterns. A perfect match. "Well, fuck me..." Matt murmurs, "You really do know L well, don't you?"

Light barely hears him, rapt with the constellations of star-shaped forms. What's more, the two candidates he had identified for L's whereabouts were the _starting_ point of the graphs—each chronologically connecting to form the graph and running back to the starting location.

“I’ve got to tell Mello he’s right—he always likes to hear that,” Matt grins, “Catcha later Light, and great work.”

Light nods absently, turning his attention to the most recent graph. The first post was just over a week ago, expressing suspicion over a select few frequenters of ‘Rover’s’, the local diner in town, and requesting surveillance on a nuclear scientist. The next one was just yesterday. _How did I miss this?_ Light wonders, and flickers through the second comment.

"... _I suspect this may be the flash of sun of the cold, dark sea."_

Light's lips part, nails digs so deeply in his palm it might well draw blood. The quote is from _La Nausee_ \-- having read it upwards of four times since May, it echoes in his memory. _You really are waiting for me._ The breath catches in his throat between relief and terror. Light hardens his face, then leaves the hallway, urgency growing within him.

In the main room, Near is building a dice-city around his matchstick model, speaking in a low voice to Mello as images flicker across the television screens.

“I know where L is.”

“Matt had mentioned you had finally made progress,” Near smiles slightly "This is impressive…for someone as new as you are. The Capreol Case.”

Light blackens, “You knew?”

“Of course not. I simply observed the results of the algorithm, then it became obvious. Full credit to you for trying out a graph structure – it would not have occurred to me.”

“The Petersen Graph specifically was a nice touch,” Mello has a knowing smirk, and Light hovers somewhere between wanting to smile and wanting to punch him again.

"I'll be leaving immediately," he states, then plays his card, "I would like to request that all operatives be removed from the area."

"That's a bold request," Near continues to stack the dice-tower, "considering you're still a suspect."

"Suspect for a case two years cold," Light levels him with a glare, "You said it yourself, I'm the best chance you have."

"Yes," Near states simply, "But that does not mean we trust you."

"You shouldn't." Light says truthfully, "But I won't do this under surveillance."

"Fine." they both turn to look at Mello, who gives them an even glance, “We’ll pull our operatives out of Capreol, if there are any. At present I don't believe we have any specifically deployed, although investigations were called for regarding a new case there."

Near gives Light a pointedly dismissive look, and Light stalks down to his unused bedroom. After a moment of rearrangement, he slips back into the hallway, just close enough such that he can hear Mello and Near's whispers,

“...but do you think he's up for the challenge? This case is a tough puzzle, and to miss might mean _losing._ " _Is Near talking about L? Or me?_

"God knows he's always been the best of us. In terms of balance, that is. He's been doing it a lot longer than us, and I think something about working with Light...changed him."

“I’m not sure it was for the better.” Bitterness was an emotion that Light never thought he would hear from Near’s normally toneless voice.

"I know you're angry with him."

"It doesn't make a difference what I feel."

"Near." Light shifted his position so that he could see the two figures standing in the room.

“Putting aside _how_ L made us work together, can you imagine what it would be like if we hadn’t?” Light watches as Mello places his hands on Near’s thin shoulders, “Because I can. And I can tell you right now, it would have destroyed me. And it would have destroyed you.”

Near makes a small, gentle sound and looks away, “You don’t know it wouldn’t have happened without that.”

"Near, he might have put us through a hell that most people would never forgive," Mello curls a finger around Near's snowy hair, "But all I can do is thank him for it. If he hadn't done that, I know would still be fighting you with my last breath. And you can say that L put that instinct in me, but the truth is it’s always been there, and no one's ever forced me to _stop_ , and _think_ , then make those tough calls. Look at me and tell me you wouldn’t still be playing the game even though you knew it would hurt us both."

Near has the glimmer of an innocence lost as he looks back up at Mello, “Before then, I didn’t know, or didn’t want to.” he leans his head on Mello's shoulder, "I always admired you, you know."

"I know that now Near, but you've never been good at admitting that you're wrong. Or counting your costs."

Near sighs, whispers, "Yes. That might even be worse now that I have something to lose. Several somethings, in fact."

Mello laughs sadly and kisses him on the head, "No, Near, that can only make it better. I'm proud of you."

Near nods against him, "I'm not ready to forgive L. But he is more than an asset to us. He's _important_. Mello, are you _certain_ that it's safe to send Yagami after him?"

"Twelve percent," Mello draws back, a resigned look in his golden eyes, "That's how certain I am that both of them will make it out alive. Light is Kira. And L, wherever he is now, is still L. But what I’m banking on ninety-seven percent chance that if they stay apart, it’ll kill them both.”

Part of Light admits respect for the uncanny depth to which Mello could interpret people. These were thoughts he hadn't even put words to. The other part of Light is _murderously_ angry, daring him to call Mello out, find his name, _scrawl_ it in the Death Note. He keeps quiet.

"Near, I think you better take a look at the Sudbury case," something has flickered up to the screen, caught Mello's attention. _This is the information I need._

"Those wrist markings-- the similarity can't be coincidence."

“Pull up everything we have on the case—keep eyes on it. I want to know what L has said.”

“Those two gossip like an old married couple.” a low growl behind Light, he whips around to face the weathered face of Watari, "you best come with me, boy."

 _How long has he been standing there?_ Light follows him, cautious but unafraid, until a thought strikes him. _What if he takes me off of finding L, under suspicion?_ He tries to arrange his perfect mask, rusty from disuse, "I only meant to gather information about Capreol--"

"I know perfectly well what you were doing," Watari strides down the hall without looking at Light, “It is of no consequence. You are to find L. It is my duty to help L become found. Retrieve your bag.”

Light grabs his backpack from his room, slings it over his shoulder. Watari nods. “I will fly you to Sudbury, and from there a car will take you to Capreol. We will also provide you with sufficient funds, from a private account. Are there any other supplies necessary”

“No.”

They arrive at the elevator, depart the old toy store in the barely rising sun. Light is tense against the black leather of the car, anxious. _The flight will be six hours in length, plus two hours travel time and the time difference. Since he’s already on the second post, there’s a good chance he’s already left. But the case is still unsolved, so I still have a chance_.

When they arrive at the airport, Watari rolls open the barrier between the front seat and the back.

“Before I fly you there, I have something to say.”

Light nods with a level gaze. Watari swings his aged, tough-looking hand onto the other seat, and gives Light a hard look.

“If you hurt L, if you use him in any way, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Light waits for a moment, but Watari simply stares him down. He nods slowly. They both get out of the car. Watari gives him an appraising look.

“You’re not very subtle at fieldwork and eavesdropping,” memory stirs, and Light has a feeling Watari is not specifically speaking of today’s attempts to gather information, “But you have lying down to an art. Make sure to make use of your skill set.”

Light nods again, boarding the small jet. He thinks a moment.

“Thank you for the sandwich.”  Watari’s eyes crinkle just a little, reminding him of L.

* * *

 

_November 9, 2004_

_L. L. L. L._

_My hands are shaking as I write this. I’ve never had that happen before._

_You know what gets me most of all? How simple it was. How utterly meaningless the last thing I said, you said, we all said. Case closed. Here’s my number. Don’t call me, I’ll call you._

_That paper I gave you was a piece of the Death Note. And you wrote on it without even touching it. One mistake after another, for both of us._

_You don’t know this, but I saw you afterwards, coming down from the roof, all covered in rain, then I wanted to go back to you, so badly, then I wanted to write in this notebook so many names so many deaths blot it all out, forget you, forget everything except the perfect world where people like us couldn’t exist._

_I guess I was afraid that you would go up there and not come back. But then I was afraid if I went up there I might go over the edge, taking you with me._

_I think I might be going insane._

_So I guess this is goodbye._

* * *

 

William Eru turns up for his shift at ‘Rover’s’, thick makeup over the dark circles under his eyes. L Lawliet still hasn’t slept. Three days. At this point Wammy would usually slip a sedative into his coffee (seven sugar sweet but still not enough) and he would wake up in bed with an idea of how to solve the case. The idea of buying pills on his seems both terrifying and compelling (he doesn’t like to think about that temptation, blue though it is). The pictures of the diner are…fuzzy as he sweeps the floor, and shift in a dizzying manner. Every pattern looks like wrist-slashes, every glance is an accusation. No leads (not that he could put it in the right order if they were).

 A familiar-looking customer enters,“Ms. Michels,” he manages after a moment of staring.

“Mr. Eru,” she smiles (confident like Light was, arrogant in her choice of weapon), “I’m just in the market for something to-go, tonight.”

“Burger or your usual sandwich?” the words fall out of his mouth (thankfully in the right order).

“The usual. I’m flying out to Stanford tomorrow, for a conference.”

L nods (something, somewhere in that information is pertinent, but his own mind is eluding him),“Nu-cue-ler stuff, huh.”

“Something like that,” she looks (feigns) concern, “You seem a little off, is everything all right?”

“Fine, simply feeling a bit under the weather.” He returns a moment later with her sandwich, “Shift is almost over, though.” Purple lights are flickering from the above, but he glances up and it’s simply the above lights.

“Get well soon, then,” she states blandly, departing the diner with a jingle of the door.

 Half an hour later. L is on the street, wandering. The lamplight catches on a grotesque figure in the moonlight, he squints against his own scream. _Beyond Birthday_. A murderer’s ghost. He turns to run, sees B in front of him grinning bloody (crimson memory), trips face forward through him into the pavement. 

 _Oh_. Hallucinations. Sleep-deprivation or has he been drugged? He stumbles down the street, a few blocks to his kit. Voices gather in his ears, a kind of murmur like music. He quickens his pace. Then Light is next to him. He spins to address the figment, and it transforms. Towers over him. Becomes bone-terrifying, with a heart that swells beneath its chest as if to burst. L begins to run.

Back at home, L pulls out supplies, bleeds his finger, fumbles it into the test. He leans his head against the coffee table. Shinigami-Light grins at him (at least he’s good company). A clawed finger reaches for his.

“What will it be, Kira-kun?” L whispers softly. The Shinigami laughs, laughs Beyond Birthday’s death rattle. L turns back to the blood test. Clean. It only has 95% accuracy, but given his current state, he might believe it. At the peak of the B.B. murder cases, he has some fuzzy memories of a similar breakdown. He almost laughs the Shinigami giggle.

“Well, Kira-kun. I suppose it’s just us now,” he whispers, finding it difficult to speak clearly. For a moment, the memory Light’s eyes begging for his flash amber, and then he sees (blessedly) nothing for some number of hours (presumably, Shinigami-Light keeps watch).

Eyes open on a soft rug that smells mildly of smoke. L blinks. The chill, wooden room stares back. No ghosts, no gods, no death. Not here. (Not yet).

 It wouldn’t be the first time he had passed out from exhaustion (though he hadn’t done so alone in a number of years, had taken Wammy’s advice after it became obvious that a _minor_ amount of sleep did, in fact, improve his deductive abilities). Images of the body, of Adeline’s body flash back and forth through his memory.

Then the possibilities coalesce into one. _Someone knew_. Someone he wasn’t aware of. The train of thought runs—Mello, Near, and Wammy are the only three who know the exact circumstances of A’s death, they are not murderers, categorically (not even Near), so someone must know of her death, B and everyone else beyond (sick laughter in his memory) that who knew are dead, but the files exist, buried deep (under barbed-firewire thrice checked) in the ‘net of information that contains every murder, crime, conspiracy that the Wammy’s house has ever faced.

L Lawliet is now certain of two things. First, the Qnetwork is compromised. Second, his life is in serious danger. Someone killed, as a message to him specifically. He is calm, (white-bells calm) at this news. The first logical move is to destroy his laptop. Lurching from his position on the floor, he grabs hold of the cool grey plastic. Ejects the hard drive, stands, crushes it under his foot (until it is so much silicon waste, intricately ruined. L doesn’t like to look at it). Then he removes a kit full of practical items (first aid, toolkit, various weapons), and takes sandpaper to the platters. He deposits the entire mess into his bag.

He will have to leave immediately. 

At one in the morning, L pulls on his heavy overcoat, wipes the place down (as intimately as Beyond would have), and shoulders his bag. It seems a shame to leave Capreol so soon (the way it settles against him like a hospital bed). The night is silent, in a small town even the murderers sleep at night. The moon is gibbous waning against the soft clouds in the sky.

He steps over to the dumpster to deposit the empty shell of his laptop. From here he can see the water, static, unmoving against the moonlight. Apart from human lives, human deaths. Desire wells up, strange against his numbness (to have one moment here, before returning to radio silence). L gives in to it. He strips down to his boxers, paper-skin soft against the moonlight. He wonders, faintly, what it would be like to become a murder case (a work of art for intellect, his own substance of choice).

The sand is sharply cool. Part of him distantly thinks of broken glass (both in shattered crumbs over time, and in the possibility of bottles cutting through bare feet), but he wanders to the water's edge without looking down.

The water is colder than expected (white-frigid), but L wades up to his knees, then to his waist, his boxers soaking wet against him. The memories of Adeline move and shift, fading into soft bells. Then he submerges. He can almost hear his heart beating (that hateful drum sound, too quick), but it's muffled.

The water shifts to warm, almost soup-like now. L resists the growing temptation to draw breath (so quiet down here, no whispers, no ghosts). He closes his eyes. _Is this resignation? I thought...perhaps I thought wrong._ Warm hands touch him gently from behind, and he welcomes the memory (hallucination, hadn't realized drowning would be so beautiful). The hands grip him suddenly around the waist and he gasps in a choking mouthful of silt water. His head is wrenched out of the water, raw to the moonlight as he coughs and retches against his rescuer (savior).

_Artwork by[Zenthisoror](http://zenthisoror.tumblr.com/post/141974629691/raw-to-the-moonlight-doodle-of-the-day-id). Do not repost without permission._

Light keeps his arms strong around L as he pulls him out of the water. L clings to him, shivering, childlike (memory, hallucination, death vision?). Light’s eyes are just as bitterly murderous as he remembers, but also urgent, terrified. His jaw is set, a drop of water beaded there. L wants to reach up and brush it away, but his arms do not obey his instinct to move (too numb).

When they reach the edge, Light folds over him, pulling him close. L succumbs to it, and clutches the skin he’s missed for two (long, cobalt) years close to his. After some time, their breaths (tainted by adrenaline), sync up to each other. L shudders violently and presses his face to Light's neck.

"Never fucking do that again," Light whispers in his ear.

For the first time in ten years, L cries. 

* * *

_May 9, 2006_

_L_

_I reread the note from November 9, almost two years ago._

_It would have been so much easier if I had just killed us both._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, this was a HEAVY chapter by the end of it. Let me know how you felt about it. I can't promise the next one will be any better re: angst, but it *is* Light/L together, so there's that for consolation (and cuddles). And answers.
> 
> This chapter (and the previous few) does deliberately reference events of the Regina Spektor song "Genius next Door", so give it a listen if you can! :)
> 
> UPDATE: This chapter's remarkable art by the amazingly talented Zenthisoror. The text is from "Life is Fine" by Langston Hughes. <3 I am in love with this drawing and forever grateful.
> 
> Lisp is a functional programming language, most often used for trying to write AI. It's also the second-oldest high-level language in use today, and using it for the kind of stuff suggested here is something probably only L could pull off ;)
> 
> In case you've never seen a Petersen Graph before https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f5/Petersen_graph.svg . It makes an appearance in 'burn this city'.
> 
> I'm undecided about whether or not to delve deeper into Matt/Mello/Near's story later. Perhaps. They will make later appearances, for sure, though.
> 
> Let me know of your feels, leave feedback on characterizations, stylistic choices, the story, why is the story so angsty? >:), etc. etc. I would love to hear from you :)


	4. blackdown

"You're shivering. L, I need to get you off the beach to somewhere warm," a jerklike nod against the warm body, "I have a car nearby. Do you think you can walk?"

Can he walk? He wiggles his toes gingerly (they respond, despite their cyan hue). L shrugs his thin shoulders, which morphs into a violent shudder.

"I'm going to take that as 'not really'," Light shivers slightly against him, "Okay. I'll carry you. Hold onto me." L gestures towards his belongings, piled on the beach, and Light leaves, only for a moment, and returns to wrap him in the old overcoat. Light catches his eyes, fingers catch the tears there, and he looks so sad (Prussian blue), so angry (alizarin crimson), so beautiful (a portrait in moonlight). L leans forward to brush his lips and Light chokes back a sob, pulls him close. They get their bearings, holding each other.

Light gathers him up carefully (like something sacred), arms beneath his knees, hand wrapped around his shoulder. L presses his face in Light's chest (still unwilling to believe his own senses). Light lets him down soft onto the dark leather of an inconspicuous compact car (Wammy's style, but L's thoughts are distant). Light returns a moment later with a large towel, and begins drying L's soaking hair. L wants to look away but can't stop drinking in the sight of him (perfect poison cherry wine).

Light lays the first towel over L's shoulders, then produces another, dries his legs, his feet. Pressing the white towel into them, between the toes, his thumb under the worn, bony instep. Softly, reverently. L slides the towel off his shoulders and mops at Light's dripping chestnut hair. Light falters at this, gripping tightly at L's delicate feet. Letting his head rest on L's knee (like a prayer).

"You know, you don't have anything to atone for, Light" L whispers into wet (sweet-smelling) hair. Light looks fleetingly like he will crumble (shatter, vulnerable), and then steels himself into the (broken) mask by shaking his head.

"You're wrong," Light says (L considers again that possibility, eager for Kira still, after all these years). He kisses Light's forehead softly as his toes slowly fade from blue to human.

"We have to leave," L mumbles, adrenaline picking up, "It's not safe for me here, nor for you." he tries to move, stumbles slightly, and Light puts hands on his knees, holding him there.

"Just relax." Light's voice is low.

L holds his breath for a moment, "If you've come to kill me, Kira, I can't imagine a more beautiful death." It slips out like a hallucination, a habit, but L sees in a moment the blue poison reflected in Light's gaze (cracks like tributaries in his gorgeous facade). He drops his head on L's knee, and it feels like surrender.

L relents (as he never has before), and strokes Light-Kira's hair gently. "It's all right. I'm not afraid."

Light clutches white on his knee, and then surges upward, kissing him desperately, dragging his tongue to map out L until they can both barely breathe with it. L places a hand at his shoulder, "Light. I meant what I said about it not being safe here."

Light gives him a wild-beast stare, demands, "Tell me you're not going anywhere. L."

"I'm not. I'm right here," he manages to take Light's hand, squeeze softly, "but you need to put on dry clothes, and you need to _drive_."

He swallows thickly and nods. The both dress in the silence of the setting moon. L insists on sitting in the front, to navigate. Light acquiesces, but wraps him tightly in a wool blanket. “Where?”

“Markstay. It’s only few hours drive from here. Take the main roads, but loop twice around Basin Mills. Make sure no one is tailing us.”

Light nods, and they hit the road at pace. L keeps his eyes wide, but his hands twitch.

“You don’t have to stay up—I can keep watch.”

“I’m fine, “L’s teeth chatter slightly.

“You’re going into shock.” Light says quietly, “Just, close your eyes a moment, and breathe. Everything will still be here when you open your eyes.”

So L closes his eyes (only for a moment).

A moment later, he’s between cheap cotton sheets, a warm set of arms clasped firmly around his chest (damn—is sleep really this physically necessary?). His eyelashes flutter open to the clean, sparse room in a small motel. He closes his eyes again, pushes back the memories of the night before, and allows himself, for a moment, simply to feel _at home_. As he only ever has waking next to a murder-ghost.

L sighs gently. He then becomes aware of the fact that Light’s breathing isn’t at sleep-cadence. That his heartbeat is a nervous speed (the liar’s tattoo, Light hides, Light has always been hiding).

L turns slowly to look Light in the eyes. Yes, awake. They both stare for a moment (never one to waste words on obvious statements) and Light keeps the silence, the honesty all in his barely-hopeful eyes, and tension all knotted in his jaw (set with resentment). L is suddenly, deeply tired, the numb grey from the past few months washing over him in a rush.

It must show on his face, because Light reaches a hand for him, “Hey.”

“Light,” L sits up, rubbing his neck, “You found me.”

“Yes.”

“Did Watari send you?"

“I went after you myself, called you—but I guess you could say that Mello sent me,” Light sits up, doesn’t look at him, something eating at his eyes (or perhaps it is hungry for someone else).

“Ah.” L doesn't try to make conversation. He shuffles out of bed, takes a drink of water from the sink. Light simply stays where he is, all tense line along his arms and gaze. L sits back down next to him. 

“Your puzzle was…beautiful,” Light tries for an imitation of the old charm, but it falls cracked (and L has never been interested in that game). He doesn’t reply, simply searches with his grey eyes for what Light is trying (not) to tell him.

“I thought you would recognize it,” L sees the way memory plays on Light’s eyes, “it seems you remain, talented as ever at detective work. Perhaps I should have convinced you to succeed me.”

"Why did you leave?" it slips out, and Light winces, "never mind, that was a stupid question. It's probably the same reason I left police work."

“Why was that?”

Light looks away for a moment, then stands, steps out of bed, “Lost what justice meant along the road, I suppose.” _Oh Kira_. (feeding beautiful half-lies just creates hunger for the truth). “But you still keep busy, I saw.”

"A few meaningless cases. I'm not really good for much these days, I'm afraid." That much L hadn’t meant to say (bitter, hadn’t realized the way the thought crept up on him).

"L, I..." L’s features twist, and Light stops as he sees it (still kind, still astute), "Is it your title-- I'm sorry, Ryuuzaki then."

L shakes his head softly, knowing that he should relent, but he gazes back into Light's chocolate stare, and catches the barest hint of toxin. And he is still L, despite his long walk (along the drowning black river). The desire for knowledge burns within him. The desire for _right_ is in his addict-veins.

“No,” he gives in to it, “You may call me L, as it is, in fact, my name. L Lawliet.”

Even he stops breathing a moment at the resignation in his voice. Light’s eyes glisten, twitch triumphant, shimmer back to broken in the space of a heartbeat.

“You never stopped believing I was Kira,” Light’s voice is shaking.

“Yes.”

“And now you believe I will kill you. You want to use me as your own murder weapon.”

L says nothing at that (not knowing the answer), but he catches Light’s eyes for a moment, and they _shatter_.

“I am Kira,” Light’s voice is high, wild, “Is that what you want to hear? What you want to _die_ knowing?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Then I admit it,” Light flickers to calm, deadly (madness roiling beneath him), “I’m not lying. I was, I am the murderer Kira. I killed criminals. I killed them to create a better world. Congratulations, L Lawliet. You've won.” He sneers, wicked, ugly, “Now, we meet death. Together.”

The words reverberate over L (ugly brass chorale, _Dies Irae_ ), and he stares _Kira_ in the face. Honestly. Without fear. Without anger. Without triumph. With _fascination_.

And since that pleasure starts at the heart and quickens, he asks, “How many people?”

“What?”

“Do you know how many people you killed?”

Light moves to laugh, and it almost morphs into something grotesque (a laugh worthy of Shinigami-Kira), “I know every name, and I could probably recite them in order. I’ve read them every day since. There are 1427 names in my Death Note. 17 I killed simply because they opposed Kira. 152 of them I killed the _first_ day I got it—do you know how easy it was, for me? How quickly I threw myself off that cliff?”

“Yes,” L’s voice is soft, but Kira-Light’s is rising, does not hear him.

“--I had one minute of remorse, and then? I took the Death Note and used it for murder – my own justice. I thought I was a god-- I did what no one else could have, no one else would have."

"No, Light," L is insistent now, "Anyone could have killed the way you did. In fact, most people would have."

Light backs into the wall like a cornered animal, L steps carefully over the bed, like his old self for a moment, fascinating, questioning (dangerous). He cocks his head in his raven’s bird pose (Light flinches), and gives in to instinct.

"There would have always been a Kira as long as there was a notebook. Your intelligence allowed you to survive this long without being caught, which is impressive, but your intention is not unique," L swallows, he has to be ebony, ice, "You are not special. Many humans would have made the same so-called sacrifice, to call themselves _gods_."

At this Light's hair swings upwards, his eyes crimson. He _lunges_ at L, and L believes for a moment that he has miscalculated, static and impassive as Light grabs his shoulders, digs his hands (shinigami claws) into the meat of his collarbones. L just looks at him, (fathomless, black), watches Kira turn inside out, then Light _screams._

Just screams downwards into the mattress. The sound is inhuman, torn out of his breast.

Light’s hands track towards his chest as he crunches into himself, his nails tearing at his bare chest. L can barely stand watching it, but years of watching criminals break, he knows to hold back. It slowly disappates into fists, nails digging (whatwillidonow, whatwillidonow. L has seen those thoughts before. They're painful on Light).

Light is curled up fetal, shaking, tight to run, and _then_ L puts a hand on the muscle of his side back. Feels it relax. Drapes himself over him, presses his chin into his shoulder, “What makes you special, Kira-Light, is the fact that you have stopped. For two years you haven’t killed a single individual. How _did_ you do that?” he asks the question honestly (for this knowledge, too, might yet save him).

Then Light whimpers slightly, and haven’t they always brought this out in each other? L strokes the chestnut hair gently, kisses the top of his head. After a long time, his breathing evens out.

“You’re not going to kill me,” he murmurs.

“No,” L puts his hand over his, then sits up, suddenly, “Not just now.”

“What will you do?” Light doesn’t move.

“I think,” L states very seriously, “I will take you to breakfast.”

Light moves to laugh his Shinigami-giggle, but it chokes it back with a sob, “I’ve just told you all this, and you want to go to _breakfast?_ ”

L lies down so that his face is almost touching Light’s, and lets out a tired sigh, "Light. I've just been forced to come to terms with the fact that I'm suicidally depressed. I'm being hunted down by an enemy who has enough infrastructural information to unravel the structure of law enforcement as we know it. And I've just learned that I was right about the one thing I've never wanted to be right about, that the only person to fascinate me, the only person who’s gotten under my skin enough to _know_ me, is the greatest serial killer the world has ever seen."

Light’s intelligence stirs out from underneath the blood on his hands enough to nod at the logic of the statement.

"This is a bit much, even for me. I don't know what the next move is. But from previous experience, I function better with sugar. So, we are going to get donuts.”

So they do, because goodness knows L  Lawliet always gets what he wants when it comes to sugar. L holds Light's hand tightly the entire walk to the motel's Sunshine diner (and neither of them question whether this is affection or an auxiliary form of handcuffs).

* * *

 

_November 16, 2004_

_L_

_I would have thought leaving you would have made this easier, but it doesn't. No one else sees me as Kira, and that's so much worse. It's so much worse to see them believe it-- how can they be so blind?_

_Why am I trying so damn hard not to be Kira? If the world is rotten as it is?_

_You knew how right you were that this is addictive. I'm in withdrawal. It might kill me. I guess it’s fitting that all I ever write about is Death here. That and you._

_God, I miss you._

_Light_

* * *

 

Light watches L stack sugar cubes, brown and white, into a checkerboard pyramid across the table. He is perched in his raven-stance, one hand covering Light's across the red-checked tablecloth. L has tucked them into the corner booth of the buzzing diner, where it’s less likely to be seen or heard.  Light's heart is racing. He has to fight the instinct to bolt.

"Tell me, Light, what do you think a nuclear physicist who dabbles in biological warefare, a brilliant psychopath in a small town, and a faceless hacker with unparalled deep net experience have in common?"

"I really don't know." _Is this a test? I know Near believed there was a link to Kira-- but does L know that?_

"Neither do I. I need more data,” L presses a thumb to his mouth, “I’m sure part of the reason you are here is to warn me that the Qnetwork is compromised."

Light nods distractedly, "How long have you known?"

"Only since yesterday. There was a murder case-- one that could have only been committed by someone who could break into the Qnetwork," L glances back at him, "I suppose for completeness I should ask when you were given access to the network, though I fail to see how revealing you identity to me while I am at my most vulnerable will help your cause as Kira. No, it doesn't make sense at all. Tell me, was I right about Misa being the second Kira?" He cocks his head.

“I don’t want to say anything about that. It could actually get me killed.”

“I will have to ask that you answer all my questions with complete honesty. When I said I needed more data, I also meant about you. So was Misa working with you?”

“I can’t-- I don’t want Misa to be persecuted.”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate, _Kira_.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that.” Light tries to stand and L grips his hand white.

“Please, sit down, Light,” L almost sounds gentle, “It was not my intention to upset you. This is not… an interrogation, per se. I simply need to know the facts.  I have too many questions about _you_ to form coherent thoughts about the current investigation, so best get them out of the way now.”

Light slumps down. _I don’t have a choice. I gave myself up for him, and now I have to live…or die with that decision_.

“Fine. She was the second Kira.”

“Why did you believe you were, or are, in danger because of that?”

“Her Shinigami—Rem—is highly protective of her. Rem loves Misa, and would have done anything for her. She threatened to write my name in her Death Note if Misa was ever caught.”

“That would mean the Shinigami would die.”

“Yes,”  _I wondered, once, what it would be like to feel for someone that much. Didn’t think I would have to find out_. Light steals a glance across the table at L, and cannot help but feel that his expression is a mirror of Light's own.

“Why did the second Kira only need a face to kill? Did Misa have something other than a Death Note?”

“The Shinigami eyes—it’s part of owning the Death Note. You can make a deal with your Shinigami. Half of your lifespan in exchange for their eyes. With those eyes, you can see the name and lifespan of anyone, floating above their head.”

“How strange,” L crunches a cube of sugar, “You took advantage of relinquishing yours and Misa’s memories of the Death Note to prove your innocence. But how did Higouchi get the Death Note?”

“That was Rem, as well. I simply told her to give the Death Note to someone who would use it for ambition alone, on the condition that they would act like Kira. Not that Higouchi was particularly good at it.”

“Very clever,” L pops another sugar cube in his mouth, “You knew that catching someone like Higouchi would be simple, especially if both you and I were involved. The Death Note would return to your hands, restore your memories…and Misa would remember my name, having seen me before, when I met you at school.”

 “Yes,” Light whispers, unable to meet L’s eyes. _I had thought of everything._

“Flawless. Check and mate,” L’s eyes are shining, “You well and truly had me, Kira. Especially then, the way I begged for you to show yourself—“

“I told you _not_ to call me that name!” Light leans forward, hisses in L’s excited eyes. _You don’t understand what it cost me to give up that name. How it destroyed everything I was_. _How I could still be… could still have--_

"Eggs over-easy with rye, and a plate of the donuts with a side of fruit,” the waitress drawls, then blinks her tired eyes to the angry tableau below, “Everything okay over here, gents?”

“Fine,” Light loosens his bruising grip on L’s wrist and regards his breakfast with disinterest. He lets go of L’s hand with reluctance, and L doesn’t grab it back. L is folding from his detective-pose to a more natural seat. He looks more human, tired. _It looks unnatural on him_. _He’s so…vulnerable. Beautiful_. L raises an eyebrow at his staring. Light picks at his toast. They eat in silence for a few minutes.

“Now,” L pauses, tongue sampling the caramel “Tell me what changed.”

Light closes his eyes, “You did.”

“You will have to elaborate."

"I don't think this is related to the _case_ , Ryuuzaki," Light glares a moment, regretting it immediately when he sees the way L draws into himself, "How about this, an eye for an eye, as you're fond of saying. I'll tell you why I didn't kill you, and you _elaborate_ on why you left."

"Fine," L takes a vicious bite of the apple fritter. He glares expectantly.

Light takes a deep breath. It's been so many knotted words, for so long. _But I have been waiting for this. I know that now._

"It was a lot of things. I don't even know where to start. I suppose when I got my memories back, I didn’t count on what you would do to my conviction,” Light paused, trying to sort out the mess of his thoughts, “I wanted to go through with it—I even killed Higouchi, to cover my tracks. But I kept _hearing_ you say things about playing God, addictive tendencies. I hated it. I hated how you reminded me that I should feel guilty. It took me a long time to accept how much I _wanted_ to be Kira. To be a God, to be untouchable in my own perfect world. Or maybe not accept that, but really look at it from a distance, and see it how a rational person would. How you would.”

"That's funny," L manages a bitter chuckle, "I didn't _truly_ understand that until I saw how Kira worked. I would pay lip-service to the _idea_ that it was evil. And I certainly _felt_ it. But I'm not sure I let myself look it in the eye.”

“The devil you know.”

“I think I was lucky, or unlucky that I had people around me to blame, when I realized.”

“Criminals? Yes. It’s easy to blame them, isn’t it. I know that.”

“You would,” L smiles, bitterly, “but you haven't given up the Death Note, clearly. Not if you're telling me this.”

Light grimaces, "That would be allowing myself the possibility of making the exact same mistakes. Back to square one."

"That's...almost noble."

"The part of me that wanted to be Kira was proud of it, though. And still doesn't want to leave the Death Note. The thing is, I'm still dangerous."

"Justice is a dangerous force."

"Yes," Light takes a sip of his juice, "Now tell me how you got here."

L shook his head, "You were right earlier, when you said it so prettily. I knew you were hiding something, by the way."

“Of course. Please elaborate.”

L sticks his tongue out and takes a bite of cantaloupe, thinking, “You know, I would say it started with Kira, but in truth it started with the successors. With A, then B. Before that, it was puzzles, winning, a distant sense of godlike power. Conviction. It helps when you’re always right.” Then it’s Light’s turn to shoot him a dangerous glare, knowing what L is suggesting.

“But I wasn’t right about Adeline. What was right for her. I pushed her harder than B, because she was so eager. I demanded nothing less than divine justice from her. I demanded that she have none of the shortcomings that I had,” L’s voice shakes slightly, “She killed herself.”

Light says nothing, because _I’m sorry_ seems insufficient, and _I understand_ seems too close to the truth.

"That’s where it started. I went on from there, of course. It's very tiring, after a while, making rules where none make sense, guiding lives fighting monsters where the worst ones are those you create for yourself. And then came Kira, a perfect monster that I had nothing to do with,” he looks Light full in the eyes, flinty obsidian, “I was addicted to Kira because he was so clearly worse than I was. And then I was addicted to you since you were so clearly like me. While still wanting so desperately to be _nothing_ like me. I was sick of that. Then you let me in, and got under my skin, and justice wasn’t enough. But neither were you, without Kira.”

Light realizes he is breathing hard, that L’s breath matches his own.

“You know, I saw you the moment you took ahold of the Death Note. Saw it in your eyes. But I didn’t say. I wanted so _desperately_ for a final confrontation,” L closes his eyes, “I think I realize now that I wanted to lose. For it to be over. To pass justice to someone else, anyone. But at the same time, I wanted very much to win. Because I needed how it felt to _have_ justice.”

Light catches L’s nervous fingers, sticky with sugar, and holds them there. _You were justice, once, too. We couldn't survive each other before. But now?_ There were no answers. _Justice… is not enough here._

On the way back to the room, it’s Light that holds L’s hand tightly. L is tense, tight-lipped, still tired at the edges. He flops down on the bed, and it’s _wrong_. Light sits on the edge of the bed, unsure how to act. L closes his eyes.

“I keep…wanting to do things. And then giving in to doing them. Without knowing why. And then I can’t make sense of what should make sense.”

Light lays down to look at him, “Like what?”

“Burning pages of books. Leaving patterns in my work. Trying to drown myself. Nothing I do makes sense anymore.”

“I do a lot of things like that, L. I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t have to. If it helps you survive,” Light puts a hand over his, "I meant what I said about the drowning, though. Don't do that.

L simply nods, laces his fingers into Light's.

"What are you going to do with me?"

L rolls over to look at him, and there’s desperation in his eyes, “Tell me what you would do in my position.”

“Execute me." Light shades his eyes. _It's what he always intended to do._

 “Light, suicidal though I may be, I do, in fact, want to live. I have no interest in signing what would effectively be my own death warrant,” he brushes Light’s knuckles with his lips. "I know my desire to live is tied up with you, so I cannot kill you.”

Light catches his breath, runs his hand gently along L’s jaw. L sighs, “You know, B was good at beautiful things as well.”

“Who?”

“Another murderer. I don’t want to tell you that story right now.” L closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he seems to have made a decision, “Let’s…proceed for now. I may devise terms of confinement, but for now, I feel this new threat might be more pressing than a Kira who has been sleeping for two years. I need you to _work_ with me."

Light swallows, "You're going to trust me?"

"Yes-- no," L makes a complicated expression, "I'll trust you as far as I have to."

"And then what, L? Case closed? Just like Yotsuba?"

"I remind you that _you_ left after Yotsuba," L snarls, hurt flashing in his eyes.

"Because I was Kira then, and you couldn’t let me forget it!" Light hisses, gripping his wrist to bruise.

“Do you think I’ll let you forget that now?”

Light flips him over on the bed, pinning him there, “I damn well hope you don’t, _L._ ” there’s fear in L’s eyes, there’s _eagerness_ and it makes Light sick. It makes him want to give him death more intimately than a name. Fingers on throats, blood running down wrists like ink.

Light lowers his eyes, _I knew I wasn’t past this, and I still came here. And I could write his name in the Death Note, sign it at the top of a letter. It would be too easy to beat him_. He steals a glance back at L’s desperate grey orbs, _He’s already beaten me. I’ve already beaten him_. He flinches back.  

“L,” his voice shakes, wrecked and reckless, “I’ll work with you on one condition. Promise me this. If you suspect I’m dangerous—suspect I’m going to kill again, become Kira again, you can’t hesitate. You have to stop me. If that means killing me, you _do it_.”

L sits up very slowly, keeping eye contact with Light. He raises a spider-hand to his cheek, pulls him in, and kisses him. Not kindly. With tongue and teeth and dominant insistence. _God._ Light had forgotten how beautifully L could _dialogue_ with kisses, demanding answers, whispering comfort, pressing affection. He wants to melt in it and _forget,_ he wants to catalogue every moment of it to memory.

L pulls back, “I promise you I will. But I won’t let it come to that. _That's_ a promise.”

Light draws a shuddering breath, and L strokes the back of his head. “I’ll try to figure out what ought to be done after the case. Who knows? Perhaps Near will imprison both of us. But for now, the nuclear physicist, the psychopath, and the hacker. “

L gives Light a bracing gaze, which steels him. He nods. L slips off in the bed into his perch on the vinyl chair, and smiles, just the tiniest edge.

* * *

 

_April 14, 2006_

_L,_

_I was the god-murderer Kira. I was the one who kept you up at night, watching. I was the one who touched you, took you, let you in. You took me first, though. And I gave in to it._

_I was all these things, once. No one will ever know, now. But you still do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I meant for this to have a little more of the pertinent mystery plot BUT Light and L wouldn't let me, NOPE we had to have an entire chapter before these two can even move on to do useful things because things are a little screwed up and IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS AND MY LOVER IS A MASS MURDERER OKAY
> 
> So hopefully this is okay :)
> 
> Matt/Mello/Near fans, I have not forgotten about you, nor the story I intend to address between Near and L. It will come :) They will return next chapter.
> 
> If your question is: Why do you keep putting L in diners?  
> My answer is: I HAVE NO IDEA but there are a lot of diners in Northern Ontario.
> 
> Chapter theme is "blackdown" by Patrick Wolf. I honestly don't know how I feel about the writing in this chapter, but something in my subconscious must like it to think it's worthy of that song as its title. The song is special to me, and I think it really suits this chapter. 
> 
> As always, feedback is love, and shoutout to everyone who has given me feedback so far (positive and constructive!), or kudos. You make me happy :)


	5. auf achse

An elegant N in Wedding script flickers across the laptop. Light flashes a questioning look to L, but he motions for him to stay. _I suppose he's serious about trusting me, then. Makes sense. As far as he knows, I could kill him at any moment. If I had the Death Note._ Light pulls a chair up to the hotel desk. 

"L," the modulated voice comes across the speakers, "Am I to take this call as your formal return?"

"Provisonal return, N. And not to heading up the organization. That move was not temporary."

"I would say not. But now that we have confirmed that you are alive, let's see if you can be useful to us," Light caught a hint of _bite_ in Near's words, "Are you in a safe location?"

"More or less, yes.”

“Should I take that to mean that you have chosen to trust Light Yagami?”

“Yes.”

“Should I then take that as an admission that you were _wrong_ about his identity as Kira?” L pales visibly, but responds without hesitation.

“Not as such. But I need him on this case with me."

“An interesting decision. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve chosen to work with criminals,” there is more than a hint of displeasure through the modulation, “Given your current record, I’d say you could use the help."

"Are we to take that as an admission that _you_ need the help?" Light snaps, without thinking.

"Hello, Light. I suppose we should give you a codename, in time. If we don’t choose to arrest and execute you,” Near’s voice almost _smirks_ , “It all depends on what you mean by 'need'. Are we in a position to solve the case? Not immediately. But the puzzle is beginning to fit together. Incidentally, Light, we were able to close and catch the New York Gonzo Murder cases using the data from your lab. More pressingly, however, he had performed research within an elite division of the United States military. We had to use our organization’s influence to look at the records—and found that he was involved in the same nuclear weapons project that Dr. Carla Michels, and the late Dr. Janice Lawrence worked under. L, I have to let you know that M has indicated that this murder must have been a message to you personally, which means –“

“That the killer must have been aware of my presence in Capreol, N. I know. That’s when I concluded that the Qnetwork must have been compromised. I was…” L pauses for a moment, “About to leave town, as soon as I realized. It was fortunate that Light found me when he did.” Light grips L’s shoulder suddenly, strokes his collarbones. L simply inclines his head, and sighs.

“Clever, but you may have been too late. The Qnetwork has been compromised for more than two weeks now,” Near pauses a moment on the other line, “So it seems the killer has seen through our ruse, and identified an anomaly by your operations on the network, subtly different from our operatives who were receiving their information through different channels. Plausible. But I would also consider the possibility that someone else cracked your codified movements.”

“I highly doubt anyone other than Light would have identified the Petersen graphs. I will admit it was something of a personal touch.”

 “I was suggesting you remain open to the possibility that Light could be involved in this. The hacking has been linked to an underground Christian-Kira-cult. L has been, and will always be, the greatest opposition to Kira. It would be in Kira’s interest to have you eliminated.”

“Light is not involved. I would stake my life on it.” L’s voice is steel, and it cuts through Light. _If he know how many times I thought—still think—about murdering him. Why does he trust me?_

“We _will_ be discussing this later.” Near’s voice cuts venom.

“I would expect nothing less. But for now, to business. I need data,” L taps on the desk with impatience, “Have you identified who killed Dr. Janice Lawrence?"

"We've identified who was _hired_ to kill her-- you were correct in your suspicions about Marius Hess, despite your inaction surrounding them,” Light watches annoyance flicker across L’s eyes, “We were able to gather sufficient evidence, but because of the lack of surveillance, we are unable to locate him. He has gone into hiding, but the Canadian police have an all-points bulletin out to find him."

“Fine.”

“I’m sending you everything we have on the case. Since it is a secure line, it will take some time to traverse. Make sure you trust whoever has access to this information,” N’s tone is sardonic as the screen blinks out. Light watches L run his fingers through his hair with a huff, but catches the deep-seated self-loathing, dark in his eyes.

"You and Near don't seem to get along."

"Professional differences." L runs a few lines on the Bash terminal to begin the data-dump.

"You know, I can still tell when you're lying. Or telling half-truths."

"Is it really any of your business?" L snaps, but Light doesn’t draw back. He instead tries for a different tactic, placing his hands on L's shoulders. When L doesn’t draw back, he presses his fingers into the muscle, working out the raw tension there. L slowly relaxes into it.

“You shouldn’t let Near get to you.”

"You know, I can tell when you're trying to manipulate me."

"Maybe. But I'm also trying to make you feel better."

"You're not very good at that," L snarks, clearly relaxing into Light's fingers.

"Fine, just tell me what I want to know, then." _Always the challenge with you, isn't it?_

"What do you want to know, Light?" L flutters his eyes tiredly, but Light doesn't relent.

"I heard them talking-- about something you put them through to make them work together. What did you do to them?” _You're not the only one who can ask for answers._

“It wasn’t nice.”

"Was it necessary, though?" Light presses his hands, just lightly into L's thin shoulders. The glow of the cheap hotel lighting makes him seem sharper in the bones, his hair slightly dirty from the days on the road. 

L shakes his raven hair back to stare Light in the eyes, backwards, “You are greedy for these things, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you,” Light admits, keeping his gaze even. _That’s not a lie. Though it is manipulative_.  L seems to realize that, and spins the office chair backwards to give him the full force of his grey stare.

"I set them a case-- a conspiracy plot-- and pitted them against each other to win my title. The siege lasted a month-- Near pulled strings to work with the FBI, and Mello managed to convince the Italian Mafia to back him. They both performed...unbelievably well. Separately, though, neither had the information they needed to complete the case. Mello is too passionate for the minute details. Near can't read people, only plans."

"But together?"

L sighs, bites at his thumbnail carefully, "You didn't know them then. They never would have worked together. Mello was too proud to admit how much he needed Near. Near wasn't good at self-analysis. But he would have done anything for Mello," There's enough emotion in L's voice that Light almost wishes he hadn't asked. But then, he's glad of exactly that. He places a hand over L's delicate fingers.

"Sometimes I think Mello knew how much Near loved him, but kept throwing it in his face, out of spite," L purses his lips tightly, "I kept trying to tell him. Matt kept trying to tell him. He's stubborn."

"So you set something up," Light doesn't know why he keeps pushing.

"Yes. I tied up the case, but unbeknownst to them, I staged a no-win scenario for Near. Put Mello's life on the line with a bombing threat. The other choice was the last piece of data needed for the case. Failing to choose the data opened up the possibility for the organization to be compromised." L pulls his hand away, steeples his fingers, "I wanted to see what he would do."

Light remembers distantly what it was like to stare his father down through the barrel of a gun. He had never held L personally responsible for that event. Rather, it had been the first in a series of events that had destroyed their relationship. Light couldn't stand his father's willingness to follow orders, his black-and-white demands on the world.

He couldn't stand it because he had tasted what it was like to be the one to give the orders. And that was anything but black and white.

“You made a call. For what it’s worth, Mello seems to think they’re better off.”

L laughs a short, bitter bark, “It’s surprising, I always thought Mello would handle it worse, that he would finally stop seeing me through rose-colored glasses. He did that. But he was still grateful. I didn’t count on Near’s protective streak, when he chose Mello. Or how much it would hurt him. Mello put him back together though, with Matt's help.”

Light watches L fidget with his bare toes on the chair, digging them in. He puts his hand against them, kneels next to him, "Do you regret it?"

“I couldn't look Watari in the eye for a week afterwards. It didn't take me long after to leave."

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” L's voice is flat, brutal, "Near should consider himself lucky he learned that lesson when no lives were at stake."

 _That's what I would have thought_. L holds strong for just a moment, then his shoulders go limp."perhaps I'm only saying that to absolve myself of my guilt. Because of the mistakes I've made. I see so much of my younger self in Near. Sins of the father, I suppose."

"They're your family." In a flash Sayu flickers into Light’s mind. He hopes she hasn’t called, that she isn’t worried about him.

"I really shouldn't be telling you these things. It's one thing to give you information that could hurt me. That doesn't matter. But to hurt Mello, Near, or Matt. That's unforgivable."

Light hesitates, hesitates to reach for L. Then gives the best reassurance he can manage with honesty, "You’ve taught them well, at least. Mello's ability to read people is way out of my league. I'm not that good of a liar. At least not lately."

"The Kira I knew wouldn't have admitted something like that. Neither would Light Yagami, even when he had forgotten his costs." L reaches a hand for Light’s.

Light says nothing for a moment, torn between wanting to kiss L breathless and wanting to get as far away as possible. So as not to hurt him. "You didn't mean what you said to Near."

"I did, and I didn't. I trust Light. But I need to be able to trust Kira, for this to be in any way sustainable--" L clutches at Light's fingers, "No, listen to me. Don't tell me Kira was you, because it's not quite the same. And you can’t tell me that Kira is dead, because I see it in your eyes."

Light blackens his eyes, but doesn't let go of L's hand, "I don't like hearing it. It took so much to  _stop_ \--" he can't continue. Or he will scream again. 

L strokes his hair. But continues to demand an answer, gently, "I have the same demons, as Ryuzaki, as Coil, as any other skin I shed. I have more experience modulating and directing them. Time will tell if you will be able to master being Kira."

Light takes it, kisses at his fingertips, hesitantly. _Would the L I knew have trusted me if I had told him then?_ But Light knows the answer to that question, knows that it took these years to temper L's black justice into an ashy grey. _And God knows, the Kira he knows is still alive within me._ Which is why he hesitates. Keeps delicate touches.

“Do you have your Death Note with you?” L asks suddenly.

Light falls quiet, out of old habit, and L _sees_ , so he speaks too quickly, “I left it—under protection at home. Mello was with me when I packed up. I didn’t want him to see it, obviously. There’s no way anyone could find it without destroying it completely.” _There is a way I can get to it though,_ Light thinks of the apple on his window-sill. He catches L’s questioning eye, but looks away, “I might be able to get it back though.”

“How?”

“My Shinigami owes me a favour.”

“So do all Shinigami inherently fall in love with the bearers of their note?" L tilts his head, smile catlike.

Light laughs then, which breaks the tension, "Not Ryuk, that's for damn sure."

“A pity, you are far more attractive than Misa,” L pulls up the data from the case, “For now, let’s focus on the murders at hand, shall we?”

L flashes through the Qnetwork in a dizzying mass of images, barely pausing and occasionally tapping a few cryptic commands into has Bash shell. Watching him work is thrilling, and for a moment Light simply basks in it. During the Yotsuba case, he had been single-mindedly focused on contributing as much as possible, and only appreciated the result of L's investigations. The process is itself a work of art. L takes a pen and absently draws a diagram on the cheap wood of the desk.  _They're people_ , Light realizes as he draws more spidery connections. Light refocuses on the images, trying to contribute.  _  
_

“Can you slow down for a moment there?”

“Why, did you see something?” L is eager.

“Uh, no—I actually just can’t read quite that fast.”

“Right—still untrained as of yet.” L lingers for a moment on the face and profile of Marius Hess before he resumes his usual pace. _I can keep up with you, just watch me_. Light glares.

“The damaged data doesn’t make sense—it makes sense with the pattern, but if someone is clever enough to hack into the Qnetwork, they should just be using it for the information—which for the record, almost requires them to be at the level of yours or my intelligence—at the very least at Matt’s. He’s quite good. In any case, why reveal their hand? Matt indicates that the leak took place no more than a few hours before the information was damaged. They must have known we have backups for this.”

Light allows himself a slight glow of a moment from the praise, then considers, “The information damage could be to throw you off. Is Matt certain he knows of all the affected files?”

“They will have compared thoroughly, I imagine—unless the hacker was _expecting_ that, which they would be… you might have something there, Light.”

 “I’m a fast learner, if not a fast reader,” Light smiles, as L resumes his frenetic assessment of the data, “actually, I might as well grab us some food while you work though that.”

“Now?” L’s grey eyes are actually imploring. _No, that’s not adorable_.

“I’ll look at the case in detail when you’re finished. Besides—I know from experience you’ll be craving something sugary as soon as you finish with the data. Or sooner.” L sticks his tongue out, and Light wants to nibble at his lips, simply because he can. And is not sure if he will be able to do so freely forever. He does so. L tastes like apples.

After responding with a gentle kiss, L pulls back, “Will you do something for me?”

“Of course,” Light kneels down and puts a hand on L’s knee.

“Please don’t give me that sweet look. I need to put a tracking device on you,” L states with a combination of guilt and righteousness in his eyes. Part of Light wants to spit in his face.

“Fine.” he manages to keep his voice even, but it falters on the twist of his lips.

“There’s the hateful child-Kira,” L kisses him, with unexpected sweetness and bite, and clicks a bracelet around his wrist, much like the old handcuffs, "bring strawberry shortcake!"

Light laughs an honest laugh, and lets him go, "Of course."

He steps outside of the hotel room, squinting in the bright afternoon sunlight. From the brochure-stand outside the lobby, he picks up a map and appraises it. _Not too far..._ he surveys the parking lot. _That car seems familiar. I should probably mention that to L._ He turns to check in upstairs before finding himself face-to-face with a familiar, towering monster. _Well, it’s about time_.

Light smiles lopsided at the god returned, "Hello, Ryuk. It's been a long time."

"You're a hard man to find, Light-o." the Shinigami grins widely.

"Come inside a moment. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

 

_March 10, 2006_

_L,_

_I’ve never told you this, but if there’s anyone whose paid for what I did, and then what you did to me, Kira-God after that, it’s my father._

_You know I was a good liar, and he never saw past those. So when I stopped (and god knows once you stop lying to yourself lying to others tastes like poison), he couldn’t take it. And then I_ really _stopped, stopped pretending to admire or even like him. He disgusts me. Most people do._

_Light_

* * *

 

The nuclear scientists are working on biological weapons to clear the world of people (people black and blue and red with possibility). Perhaps not, perhaps the entire idea is some grotesque revenge plot worthy of B. The images of the asphyxiated politician, fingerprints (latex-covered) purple on his neck, flash past. L shifts his toes over each other. _Who is behind this…_

L’s reverie is interrupted by Light striding back in the door (a familiar glitter in his eyes), “Surely the nearest grocery wasn’t that close?”

Light smiles (simultaneously dangerous and obedient), “I told you I’d let you know.” He produces a small, black notebook (weapon, its leather print cut _Death_ into the surface). L reaches for it and Light flinches (almost imperceptible), but lets him take it by the hand. A monstrous, skeletal figure materializes behind Light. Its ribcage is taken in, its attire grotesque and ancient (years of decay scented with skeletons). _Shinigami_. L draws back, but begins to laugh (the resemblance is uncanny), and in doing so topples off his chair.

“L!” Light picks him up (gently, and he still laughs, just to see Light smile in spite of it).

“What’s so funny?” the Shinigami’s voice is low and rattled.

“You look frighteningly similar to a nightmare I had just recently. Modulo the heart earring."

“Heh. That’s funny. So, Light, you finally shacked up with him. I wondered if you would stop writing in your diary and ask him to the prom,” the Shinigami gives a shark grin, and L laughs (and decides he rather likes this strange creature).

“Shut up,” Light blushes, and L definitely likes this.

He extends a hand delicately, “Hello, other Shinigami. You may know me as Ryuzaki.”

“Oh, I know your name, but I’ll call you that if you want. I’m Ryuk.”

“How often was he…with you?” L gives Light a sly glance (and he reddens like an apple)

“Not… that often.”

“I didn’t watch you fuck, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ryuk rasps, and L throws back his head and laughs. Ryuk laughs, and it’s terrifying (but thankfully nothing like B’s laugh), “You know L, you’re pretty interesting. I wonder what would have happened if you had picked up the Death Note.”

Light’s eyes flash amber-red there, and L sees (and Light sees him witness it). L smiles, slowly (as if to say, I’ve missed you, or perhaps, I’ll destroy you), “You know, Ryuk, I once wondered that as well. I’d like to think I would have it destroyed. But perhaps…” L trails off, noting how (dangerously), Light gravitates towards the notebook. L catches his eye, and he relaxes.

“Oh, L—there’s a car at the parking lot I recognize from one of the houses in Capreol.”

“Observant,” L nods in approval, “Is it a blue Honda Civic?”

“I think so.”

“Noelle. Well, she’s not very subtle, but nothing to worry about—“ L states distractedly, turning back to the full report on the Juan deFuca Nuclear Project.

Ryuk cackles, “Well, it’s been a slice, I’m sure I’ll see you two around. Things are keeping _interesting_ here, and it beats gambling. This means we’re square, Light!” He vanishes into the wall (a shame the Death Note didn’t come with that party trick).

“I’m getting _that_ story sometime,” L arranges himself back on the chair.

“Fine, but not before lunch,” Light reaches for the notebook in a movement staged in its casualness, "I'm going out for it now."

“Light, you should leave the notebook here.”  

“Of course.” Light gives him an amber smile (but there’s no poison there). He hesitates at the doorknob, “L, please…don’t read what’s in there yet.”

L can sense the plea underneath the Kira-whisper, so he nods, “I understand.”

Light leaves without another word. L drums his fingers and puts through another call to Near.

“What do you make of the data?” Near is straight to business (white-knight, blank on the chess board).

“It doesn’t fit with the pattern— the stolen criminal records this individual is very obviously targeting us. Their alignment with the Kira cultists seems to be a deliberate way to garner influence, but something bigger is going on. The nuclear research is pressing, but I have to wonder where the smallpox virus comes from. Another imitation of a case, possibly that of K’s?”

“That’s a possibility I had considered—though if so, I would wonder why we hadn’t seen any murders that were B’s style. They were the most publicized, and quite frankly, a better way to get our attention. M believes that is, in part, what this individual wants.”

L presses a finger to his lip, “I think that there’s a possibility that much of the data was altered to throw us off the trail of what the individual was actually looking to destroy. The Qnetwork’s value is _information_. To even infiltrate it would take substantial resources, but once the codes were broken, even once, a criminal organization would have more than what they needed. Why reveal themselves?”

“There’s a piece of this puzzle we’re missing.” L can picture Near’s finger curling around snow-white hair. Then something nagged in his memory. A blue car, too common (an all-too knowing glance, clumsy).

“N—if you, or Watari had me followed, why send Light after me?”

“That was M—did you say that we had you followed? We never knew where you were. If we did, that would have made this far simpler.”

Suddenly, the puzzle slides into place-- every move behind Noelle's staged brown eyes; the carefully hungry way she would glance at him while he worked, the dangerous streak of intelligence, the barbed way she 'comforted' him about the murder (the way in which she inexplicably reminded him of Light, which in actuality was the echo of _Kira_ ). It all makes terrifying sense now.

“N. I need you to look back at every record, every database you can possibly manage to find one Noelle Lineaus—or any related pseudonyms.” L stands as he gives the instructions, reaching for his coat, clicking open his kit to reveal the small handgun (molybdenum steel and cool with disuse. It felt warm as he slipped it into his pocket), “I have to go locate Light immediately.”

Near understands instantly, “I’ll do what I can. And L?”

L hesitates for a breath, “Yes?”

“Be careful.”

L Lawliet would find that touching, if he didn’t have the heartbeat of danger caught in his throat. He pockets the Death Note, sets the laptop to secure (immediate self-destruct on disturbance), and locks the door behind him. From the tracking signal he notes that Light is close by, in the commercial district (still safe buying strawberry shortcake?). L picks up speed, pounding bare feet in beat up sneakers against the asphault. The store itself is innocuous (but run-down, half grocery, half warehouse).

He turns to the tracking screen. The signal is coming from beneath him (basement or buried). L swears, and pushes past an old woman with a shopping cart (who glances back _too_ carefully, he notes, but can’t stop now).

L sprints through the storage doors. His gaze darts back and forth (panic settling in, could fifteen minutes have been too late?).

The stairs down to the basement come into his vision, and he trip steps one after the other. It's a basement freezer (cool murder-lighting gusts his breath). L runs past the meat-racks, turns, to reveal a nightmarish tableau.

Light has his back to the wall, bleeding from the upper arm (desperate and terrified, he's never been threatened. Not like this). His hand is shaking, his watch face almost smashed off at the wrist. His attacker is sallow-faced, breathing hard to generate thick, white clouds. He has a knife, he wields it with loving eagerness.

L holds the gun firmly between thumb and index (even breath) and points it directly between Marius Hess' black-blown eyes, "Put the weapon down. Let him go," L's voice is cool (diamond-glass cutting). A second ticks. Hess' eyes widen, he twitches suddenly, drops the knife with a clatter. His hand clutches at his chest, convulsing. He draws a rattling breath (his heartbeat almost _echoes_ a moment). Then he collapses.

Leaving Light, staring at the corpse (no surprise written on his face). He places a hand to staunch the blood dripping along his wrist. He gives L a (heartstoppingly imploring) look of relief. L bites his lip bloody, and points the gun at Light-Kira's beating heart.

* * *

 

_November 18, 2004_

_I keep dreaming about killing you L._

_I keep dreaming about you dying. You’re not allowed to. Not without me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff in this chapter...a wild Ryuk appears! I'll probably bring him back once more before the story ends, since he's so interesting. 
> 
> The mystery is back in the spotlight. Sort of sorry about the cliffhanger. I like to keep my chapters around the same word count. I will post the next chapter soon!
> 
> Chapter theme is 'auf achse' by Franz Ferdinand, which has a lovely piano line (the phrase means literally 'to the axle' or figuratively 'on the road'). Franz Ferdinand reminds me of Light. 
> 
> Comment me, let me know how you're feeling-- how many readers saw that coming re: Noelle? Obviously, more to that story in the next chapter :)


	6. dear one don't you be afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned that this chapter lives up to the 'Explicit' rating here. So feel free to skim the second half if it's not your thing. :3 
> 
> Also, violence rating has gone up, nothing too serious, but be forewarned about that too!

The air in the freezer seems to crystallize as Light stares down L's gun. Time slows. It’s much like observing the second hand of his watch tick, once, twice, counting down to death. His eyes flicker to the corpse, pathetic in its limpness. Had it been so terrifying, tense and alive moments ago? And _to think he thought he could have killed me_ , Light wants to laugh, he wants to throw up, he wants to crumble down and _burn_ , but it’s far too cold and an icy gaze with a bullet tucked inside is staring him down.

“Kira.” L states, with that hint of sardonic familiarity, affection almost. Light inclines his head slowly. He can feel his own heartbeat.

“He was going to kill me.”

“Yes, he likely was,” L's voice is liquid-calm, melting Light's frozen relief to terror, "How did you kill him?"

"Pieces of the Death Note-- in my watch,” he moves his hand slowly, to expose the open face, a scrap of a page fluttering to the floor. Two names, two years apart. Blood-written. The reality, the concreteness of the corpse shocks over him in a wave of panic. This is dangerous, he is dangerous, they’re still in danger here. He twitches a step,  “L, we have to--"

“Don’t move,” L keeps the gun trained at his chest. Light breathes in, still fading out of the relief, the powder-keg of using the Death Note.

“Kira—you chose not to mention those pieces of the notebook to me. I know a choice when I see one," L takes a slow step forward, "Tell me what happened. I'll know if you lie."

Light draws a shaky breath, "In the back of the store-- He came over to me. I wasn't paying attention so he managed to get the knife over me, forced me into the back room," the panic was starting to creep up. Light put his hand on the frost-encrusted piles of boxes. The cold steadies him, "I tried to disarm him in the back room, but he was too fast. He got my arm with the knife-- I fought back but I couldn't beat him," Light's heartbeat picks up, terror clutching at him, but L's eyes remain black and discerning, inclining to go on.

"Once he had me with the knife to my throat again, he told me, 'this can be over in a heartbeat but I'd much rather make it last-- you're the pretty kind I'd like to make scream. Don't struggle and i'll make it nice for you.'," Light chokes on the last words. _These are the people that deserve to die. Opposing that is futile-- delivering death is the only way. He would have killed me-- could have killed me, what if I hadn't had those pages, if I hadn't seen his name, his photograph in the casefiles. What if L hadn't gotten here, what if L kills me--_

"Light," L's voice is softer now, urgent. The gentleness hurts more, gets underneath his psyche. _I killed that man, I killed him he would have killed me but justice killed him._

"I killed him," he says aloud, and it's awful. "But I didn't have a choice. I barely got a chance to write his name and he could have, he could have--" his throat closes up. For a moment, breathing is too much. Then it comes back, oxygen in. L is still barrel-gazing down at him, searching for something. _Something that isn’t there, I’m not innocent. I’m Kira._

"Please, L, you have to believe me." Light whispers it then, tears just barely sparking under his eyelids.

L lowers the gun, "Kira would never beg. Not even at his most desperate."

L tucks the gun into his pocket, moves fluidly to envelop Light. Hugs his shiver so tightly it's painful. _I won't let you lose me._ The thought comes to Light compulsively as he wraps his arms around L and the power-pulse fades.

"You were afraid." L whispers, and Light sobs, lets his fear and relief soak L's cotton shirt. L lets him, for a moment, "Justice, Kira, is much more intimate than a magic notebook. Are you prepared for your life to be on the line?" his voice is so soft, as if Light has a choice. As if he would let him go, if he had to. Light buries himself in it, in sharp collarbones and gunpowder promises.

The creak of the heavy freezer door sounds, and L suddenly pulls him behind a stack of boxes. Through the tiniest gap, Light can make out a blond figure. She moves quickly when she sees the corpse. A heavy thud-- she's flipped it over without hesitation. _What’s she looking for?_

"Kira," the whisper is reverent, the curiousity of hope in it. The worship reverberates in Light’s mind. Then, more insistently spoken, "Kira?"

L squeezes Light's hand for the barest trace of a moment, then he wrenches Light's arm behind his back, shoves the handgun to his temple. He squeezes gently again. The message is clear: _trust me_. L steps out from behind the slats.

"You would be correct."

"Mr Eru," the woman tilts her head, then stands fluidly to point a gun of her own, “L.”

"Noelle,” L doesn’t flinch, keeps the gun pressed cold to Light’s head. He smiles mockingly, “No L. Hmm. That’s something B would have found hilarious. And childish.”

She blanches, “It had nothing to do with you. Don’t insult me by comparing me to those pathetic imitations.”

“Please—your actions have shown me you’re exactly like them,” L’s smile is wicked, the smile he used to accuse Light with, “As flattering as your attentions are, my concern is catching Kira. Your cult-plot involvement is of little concern to me. Get out before I arrest you."

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands,” she trains her shot, for emphasis, “There’s something in this equation that doesn’t add up, L. You want both of us alive. And I want you dead.” Light’s blood runs icy, but his eyes flash eager. _That’s a good thing—keep lying, make her think that you're Kira._

“Do you really?” L sidesteps, and Light keeps his Kira-glare plastered over his face, assessing this woman’s intentions. She has her eyes trained on his with a mixture of reverence and fascination. “You took your time killing me, then.”

“To be honest, by the time I realized you were not a stand-in, I had hoped you’d do the job yourself.” she smiles sharklike, but L’s expression does not falter. Bile rises in Light’s throat. _Who is this woman?_  “It’s very bold of you to come yourself, isn’t it?”

“Pot calling the kettle black.” L drawls, and she laughs then, deep and mad, and all-too much like a mirror to Light, “But I’m under the impression that you need Kira—and I still have all the evidence I need with him dead.

Her face twists ugly, “Oh?” she giggles curiously. She stares at the scene like a particularly tricky partial differential equation, “Now there’s a trick—how did you get him to come to you? I would have thought he was a lover of yours, the way you clung to him.”

 “You’re very naïve,” L’s eyes flash, “It can be in my interest to make suspects come to me." The black way in which he says it-- _If I hadn't confessed to him yesterday I could almost believe that_. Light arranges his features broken, and then hardened. Watches the woman with the gun catch every detail of the performance.

“I should kill you right now“ Your justice is disgusting—it’s a parasite on the clean, honest world that Kira will create now that he has returned to us.”

“Oh? You believe he is God? Do you believe in gods of Death, Noelle ?" L's voice is mocking, and Light knows a taunt when he hears it, wonders what he expects from her.

"I believe in God, and I believe in Kira,” her expression asks Light for some kind of permission. He stares back.

"Do you believe that gods bleed?" L smiles with hunger in his eyes, twists Light's arm to show the wound there, and Light winces, makes a show of it. Tells her with his eyes to _give in_ , while part of him is screaming _fightbackfightback show the world Kira, the world you create_. And he shoves that back and hopes it doesn’t burn in his pupils.

“Kira—“

“The prime factor is this—you need Kira alive, and I would prefer him alive,” L takes a step towards the stairs, and though the woman flinches, she doesn’t move against them. _Carefully, just let him take me for now. I know what I’m doing_. The last thought that Light projects with his eyes echoes against him.

"You won’t get far. Don’t think I don’t know—the Pythagoreans  believed four to be the number of justice as well,” her expression is wolfish, and L’s grip tightens white, “You're outnumbered, and hopelessly outgunned. " she darts a glance to the door. In the split second that her attention is off of him, the cool metal leaves his temple and a shot is fired. An agonized scream, blood on the floor, blood on her hands, her gun at the floor, and then L feints a blow to his head, and swoops him over his shoulder. Light keeps his eyes closed, plays unconscious as L sprints up the stairs.

“KIRA. I _will_ save you!” she screams, clutching the meat and bone of her hand. The door slams behind them, the warmth of room temperature jolting Light back to his senses. L lets him down, and grabs him by the hand to pull him out the back door.

“L, who is she—“

“Shhh—“ L crawls forward around the brick of the building until the front entrance is visible from around the dumpster. They see two men and a woman hurry into the grocery, the outline of weapons visible, “Shit. I had hoped she was bluffing. Quickly, we have to make it back to the car.”

“Do you have the Death Note?” the hunger in his own voice scares Light slightly, but L simply quirks a smile.

“Of course,” L ducks around an alleyway, glancing at the cars in the parking lot of the grocery, “Contact with N will become difficult, since I had to leave the laptop behind. They'll be going to the motel, so we have a chance,” L sprints down the alleyway, Light glancing back behind them, but the street is empty for now.

They make it across the road, not a soul on the street, behind the convenience store to their compact car. Light’s heart is racing to panic again. He pulls down into the leather of the front seat. L starts the engine.

“If they give chase, you need to stay down. Pretend to be handcuffed and unconscious. We might not be able to play this ruse for long.”

“L, I don't know if I should--"

“Light, Kira. We might not have a choice.” he swings the vehicle out onto the road. Within moments Light catches sight of a large, black station wagon picking up speed behind them.

"L--"

"I see them." L picks up speed and turns once, twice around the block, "this is Wammy's car, yes? Look in the glove compartment, there might be something we can use."

There is a screech behind them as Light fumbles – a first aid kit, a cool metal case with a variety of weapons, a small bag with toiletries and sex paraphernalia, a leather case with survival materials. _Prepared for anything, huh._  He goes for the metal and leather, pulling out a rope, handcuffs, assessing the small explosives in the kit.

“Watch your hands with those,” L pulls out onto the side of a beat-up highway, swinging onto the shoulder to kick up dust and cover their trail.

"Is this...a grappling-hook gun?"

L smirks, "Matt's idea."

There are a few more cars, transport trucks, on the road, and L swings past them with ease among the honks. The black car is close behind, joined by another, identical vehicle.

Light works quickly, his hands knotting jute to steel. _Electromagnets with battery? Must also be Matt's idea._ The first car is gaining ground as he works the device together, making use of the electrical talents that protected the Death Note. _If this works, fewer people should get hurt._ The black car is almost visible in the side mirror and L grimaces.

"Load me the R-580, that middle one," L demands, rolling down the window, "put one hand on the wheel for me. I might need you to steady the shot."

Light obeys, securing the Palomar knot to the hook of the grappling gun, then puts his hand underneath L's. His black eyes train tightly on the vehicle approaching on the edge of the side mirror.

"Now," he nods, lets go of the wheel and Light keeps it straight on while L cocks the large gun out the window, throttles the gas. Light keeps it steady when the first shot rings out, the second. Shattering noise and a yell. Light keeps his eyes front, worried that his hand might shake and slip. L slides his hands back on the wheel, just as they approach another car on the highway.

_Image by[Zenthisoror](http://zenthisoror.tumblr.com/post/142864879776/car-chase-belated-happy-birthday-to-sybilius). Do not repost or edit without permission._

“Tell me how they look,” L swerves around the civilian car, getting a honk for his trouble.

"The front car has its windshield shattered, but still fine-- I think you took out the hood of the second one, it's smoking--"

"What? That doesn't quite make--" L is cut off by a sharp swerve around a tanker, the first car gaining behind them, "Stay still!"

The black car, despite its damaged windshield, is picking up speed. Shots ring out towards them, pinging off the tanker truck. Light is suddenly very glad it’s filled with milk. Though shielded eyes, he passes the modified grappling gun to L, who takes it and glances at the mass of wire, rope and magnet with a briefly bemused expression.

“Bury it in the hood, then let it go when they’re close.” Light hisses, and L nods. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, partially out of obedience, partially out of terror.

“Shit,” L drawls, and Light can hear the car closing in. Then the pneumatic slide of metal leaving metal, a sharp _bang_ burying into steel. Through the flicker of his eyelids, Light sees their attacker, a beefy, dark-eyed man, falter as the electromagnets disable the power steering. But, like a proper hitman, he knows how to handle a car, and speeds up to take the shot.

L releases the gun, the twist of the forward momentum expanding the net of wires and magnets underneath the car, along with a small explosive that catapaults the car off the highway.

“Neat trick,” L gives Light a sardonic smile out of the corner of his eye.

Light hears a screech and a resounding thud as the black station wagon rolls and flips, once, twice over. The man in the front seat struggles out to take a shot, but L throttles the gas and they are gone in a gust. Light checks behind them, and breathes a sigh of relief. The other three cars are gone, and the road burns behind them.

* * *

 

_November 20, 2004_

_L_

_I dug up the Death Note today. Since if I forgot it, everything I had come so far to learn would become meaningless._

_I wanted to burn the letter I wrote to Misa, but I kept that so I wouldn’t forget that either. I also wanted to burn her. I had to suffice with crushing her heart instead. Maybe Rem will kill me._

_You know, I could have been a lot more cruel. I instead I told her I only liked men. Which is a lie. And could have hurt me later. Does it mean something that I’d rather tell lies that hurt me?_

_I crave forces. You are a force._

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later the cars on the road are thinned out, just the occasional transport truck. L keeps glancing in the rearview mirror (no cars, blue or otherwise). Light is staring out the window, seeming to come to terms with something (L is still riding the high and doesn’t quite want to examine it. Lucky he has a choice).

“I can keep watch.” Light says distantly. So L nods and picks up speed.

“It shouldn’t be this easy.” L drums his fingers on the wheel (recalling Coil's Shanghai chase, and another early case in Westminster where Watari had taught him how to drive on the fly).

"You did shoot her," Light almost accuses, such a familiar role reversal.

"So I did."

"L, who is she?"

"I don't know yet, but she's the key to this web of conspiracy," L takes one hand off the wheel to bite his thumb, "she's so similar...I thought she was one of us."

And he sees the way that flickers across Light's hungry eyes, so they don't discuss whether he is part of that 'us'. Not yet.

An hour passes, and Light's gaze softens, stealing back to L.

"You should clean up your arm." L states. In the tilt of Light's head he can see that Light wants so much to be touched, made safe (and whole ands perfect). In the grip of Light's fingers he can see that Kira wants murder, and the sharp pleasure-poison in L’s veins wants it too.

He keeps his eyes on the road while Light extracts the first-aid kit from the glove compartment. L steals a glance at Light when his shirt is unbuttoned, toned arms exposed. L turns back to the road (the peroxide-smell both seductive and cloying). Light wraps the gauze once, twice around his bicep, and L wants to kiss it until it bleeds afresh. 

A few hours drag by along the highway lines. They stop only in snatches, gather necessities without a word. L instructs Light to open the glove compartment again, dig out several bars of chocolate (Mello’s flavor, dark with sweet caramel). Light keeps watch on the road (like a good solider), but there’s almost no one passing by. L crunches the chocolate to keep his edge. The sharpness of the chase is fading fast, but there's a serial killer in the seat beside him, and that's a pressing enough reason to stay alert (and heartbeat-high on it).

Eventually, the night gathers the blackness of the road, twists it into something both familiar and terrifying. It's two in the morning, and the adrenaline-ache is starting to settle in (he had almost forgotten how it felt, the crash).

“L, I think we’ve lost them for now.” Light’s giving him that sweet voice, and he doesn’t want to hear it right now. L hasn’t finished with Kira just yet.

“So it would seem.”

“It’s late, isn’t it.”

“Not so late.” L lets a dig into his voice, hoping to uncover his ghosts.

“Late enough,” Light snaps, there’s resistance there. And L shouldn’t push (but perhaps it’s best for both of them, perhaps it’s death for both of them), “There’s a rest stop coming up.”

"What do you want me to do?" L doesn’t look at him, spits it selfishly like an accusation.

"I want you to stop." and _yes_ , they are certainly not speaking of the car anymore.

L turns the car sharply into the rest stop, momentum throwing them both sideways.

"I really don't think you do, Kira." He cuts the engine, it’s just him and a murderer and the night.

“L—“ Light’s protest is cut short by L pressing his thumb to the inside of Light’s lip (as if the mirror-gesture will help him think, too). He takes Light’s hand, his wrist. Traces his fingers along the outside, like handcuffs (speak to me, Kira). And Light pins his wrists down (there you are), so L climbs into his lap to see his eyes in the dim mechanical lighting.

“I’m not sure why you’re the one who is angry, Kira-kun,” He distracts him by capturing his lips, and Kira lets him, biting for a moment, then pulls back.

"You used Kira-- used me."

"You used the Death Note-- I will use what I have to in order to keep us alive.” L does bite then, makes Light-Kira taste his displeasure (copper-lips to match amber eyes).

“You don’t know—“ Light’s hips twitch slightly and L pushes back, causing him to gasp, “what you’re playing with.”

“Don’t I?” L slides his fingers underneath Light’s shirt to his spine (sharp hard ridges, wants them under his mouth). Light-Kira digs nails into his back, yes, he is dangerous. In a fluid motion L places his hands on Light’s collar and tears his shirt down his chest.

“You shot that woman.” Light-Kira gives him the hungry eyes, the judgment eyes (crimson and gorgeous).

“She threatened you. You killed that man.”

“Kira did.”

“Yes,” and L surges to taste Kira’s chest, his flesh heaving and shivering beneath him.

"This could be the start of a very dangerous game for us," he mouths all the way up Light’s neck. It wouldn’t be the first time criminal negotiations had forced him to get physical—how strangely poetic that the first would be killed by the second (B would have laughed, but this is the devil he chooses), “I know you are dangerous.”

“What was it you said? Pot, kettle—“ Light-Kira barely manages, high on sensation and L is high on power (such a pretty pair they make).

“I need to know when you are safe—I thus far have a considerably better murder record than you," L traces Light-Kira's jaw with the faintest of pressure down to his carotid artery. He makes his deal (soul-pact with the devil), "You said not to hesitate. If you kill with the Death Note again, I will not hesitate."

Light-Kira does hesitate then, then nods with alizarin-crimson eyes. "Fine."

“Kira,” L bites at his earlobe, runs his hands up and down his sides and snaps the seat to reclined,

"L," Light pushes him back up to sitting, cups the back of L's neck (like a trophy), "L Lawliet." and he says it like a threat, like a promise, like a declaration of love (tied with a bow of hatred). L lets him bend him backwards over the dash, the moonlight dusting Light's chestnut hair as he lean in to kiss (ravage) his mouth.

L reaches his pale hands down to Light's pants, then stops a moment, stares back into glittering amber eyes, "Do you want me, like this?"

"God, yes," Light-Kira gasps as if the word seems insufficient, and then envelops his mouth, all tongue and teeth and insistence and _need_. Light yanks off his shirt then, runs his nails between the pale stretch of muscle along L's ribcage (soft enough to shiver, hard enough to mark).  L thumbs open the button of his pants, but Light is just as fast (skillful hands) with the fly of his jeans.

They fight for dominance, L with his hand closed over Light’s cock, but Light one-ups him with his mouth (showoff, Kira-who-hates-to-lose), arching backwards while L strokes his length (trying to maintain concentration against the heat). L’s fingers press lower as Light tongues him with a pressure that is divine (explosions and sun-dark). He grabs a handful of the soft muscle of Light’s ass, and Light gasps against him.

He pushes him off very suddenly, realizing, "I want to fuck you."

Light-Kira wipes his mouth, eyes blown wide with lust (but tinged with a little fear as well), “Do it.” _Always the challenge_. So L goes slow, takes the lube out and layers it over when Light flips over for him, keeping a hand stroking him. L knows to be gentle (much more gentle than Light was). The newness is there for Light. The vulnerability terrifies Kira.

"You know how powerful you are,” he breathes it in Kira’s ear, and is rewarded with a bite of a kiss, “but you know, Light-Kira,” he crooks his finger, a ragged gasp of pleasure, “It’s not the Death Note that makes you godlike. It’s you. You that is human.” Light does kiss him then, almost enough to distract him (but not quite). Two fingers, and Light is moving with him . L almost can’t stand it. It’s so gorgeous. He catches Light’s fire-blown eyes, and then the decision there.

“Fuck me, L” he pulls back, desperate for a moment, but L sees the trust and vulnerability, the fear. So he flips underneath, Light on top of the bone of his hips.

“You set the pace,” he smiles his cat-smile, and Light-Kira takes the challenge. Guides himself over, and through, and _oh oh_. Light screws up his face for a moment, but L shifts, just _so_ , and his eyes catch fire. Then he starts to move, slowly at first,  then like a force of nature (a hurricane, a tornado, an act of God).

L wants this creature of Light and fire beneath him, on top of him, destroying him, creating him. Light picks up speed, and he is Kira, he is a God, he is a fallen angel in the moonlight. Thrusting deeper. Killing slowly, killing beautifully. Giving life.  

“Say my name.” he commands breathlessly (Kira, say it).

“L—Lawliet,” Kira chokes out, the orgasm crashing through his eyelids, and L follows, screaming nothings, clawing at life. The moment falls, and Light falls down gracelessly on top of his chest.

L breathes, and allows himself a moment to marvel, the stars incandescent against the night sky so far from city lights (the moon glowing gentle along Light's cheekbones). The world may yet be ending. He should feel empty, dirty, bled out with a murderer lying on top of him. But he simply feels...whole. Alive. Living. Light traces the triangle of his collarbones along his neck. They lie there a long time, speaking in touches. Eventually, Light picks himself up and covers them both with the blanket pooled at the foot of the passenger’s seat. L considers pushing upwards (pushing his eyelids open), and hitting the road again until it tore up the answers that he needed. But Light drapes over top of him, and his weight is far too warm to consider moving.

"I missed you." Light presses it like the secret it is, just underneath L’s ear.

"I missed you,” L runs his hand up and down Light’s spine, carefully, “But I think I know, now why you left," L murmurs, and Light’s ribcage tenses, the pad of his finger hovering over L’s pale neck, "It's because you couldn't stand the temptation to kill me. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"And do you still want to kill me now?"

"The part of me that wants to kill you wants both of us dead. Sometimes."

"Greedy."

Light cards his fingers though L's hair (soft, gentle). L grips him at the elbow, then presses soothing circles along his forearm. They are lit only by the starlight, naked and dark in a formless world surrounding them, "What would it take for us to just stop?"

L kisses him then, and says, "isn't that what we're trying to do?"

Light presses his forehead against L's, "Yes. And no, not at all. Not at all." So wise, but so _young._

“ ‘I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me, and I have followed the source of rivers towards their source or plunged into forests, always making for other cities. I have had men, I have fought with women; and I could never turn back any more than a record can spin in reverse. And all that was leading me where?’ “ L quotes softly, sweet nothings to whisper in a lover’s ear.

“Nowhere,” Light understands, “and yet everywhere.”

L curves the crescent of a smile into Light’s cheek, lets him fall asleep with his sweet-smelling hair against the blackness of the night. As for L Lawliet, he counts the stars one by one (until he is satisfied that there will not be fewer if earth unravels), and finds sleep with that thought on his lips.

* * *

 

_March 1, 2006_

_I’m sick of missing feeling like a God. I’m sick of missing feeling human._

_The stars used to mean something to me. That I would be among them. Sometimes I see you there, but most days all I see is blackness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter so...very...delicious in so many ways. I mean, a car chase? That was too fun.
> 
> No, electromagnets certainly do not work that way. Ah well. 
> 
> I bumped the chapter count by one (which you may be mad or happy about, I dunno). Could go up to a maximum of twelve. I make plans for the plot, but sometimes things take longer than I expected to convey :)
> 
> The quote from La Nausee (of course) quoted by L is this:
> 
> "“I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me,  
> and I have followed the source of rivers towards their  
> source or plunged into forests, always making for other  
> cities. I have had women, I have fought with men ; and  
> I could never turn back any more than a record can spin  
> in reverse. And all that was leading me where ?  
> To this very moment..."
> 
> Chapter theme is 'Forsaken' by Dream Theater, which melds the piano I associate with L with the hard guitar I associate with Light.
> 
> Post feedback, would absolutely love to hear how you felt about this chapter (since I'm so fond of it), Noelle as a villain (she's sloppy, but she's interesting, eh?), and Light/L's interactions, as per usual :) Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the ride!


	7. blue lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shameless plug to check out 'read you like the myth-lines on my palm' if you care to delve into the meta-universe thoughts that this monster of a chapter led me to.

A sharp rap on the glass of the window jars L from his sleep. His dark eyes blink in the bright sunlight, taking in grim features and neat, golden hair (of course, obvious given the red car he had caught in the edge of the mirror). He moves to get up, but a warm weight is pressed against the length of his body. Mello gives him a complicated look, somewhere between desperate relief (warm like the dawn sun behind him), indignant judgment (which twists at L’s fingertips, he should be on the case), and embarrassment (like catching parents naked together). For that matter, L is thankful that the blanket remained mainly overtop of them.

 “You’ll have to give us a moment.” L calls out, and Mello does blush at that, steps away to give them space. L closes his eyes to gather himself, then gently nudges Light (who glows softly in sleep. It seems a shame to wake him, but justice is calling with a cacophony of whispers).

"I feel like you may need the sleep more than I do, for once," L murmurs at the shell of Light's ear, "but we have company."

Light makes an incoherent noise (which L certainly does _not_ find endearing, kisses him on the forehead to emphasize that), "Sorry, what?"

"Mello found us."

Light flinches upwards at that, then ducks down immediately when he notices his nakedness. L wants to laugh, but instead settles for rubbing a hand down Light's arm with a slight smile, "We have much bigger worries than being caught _in flagrant delicto._ Such as the crime-conspiracy syndicate hunting us down, or the fact that you might be tried for mass-murder, or the lack of cake in our immediate vicinity."

Light makes the tiniest smile as he rummages at L's feet for his clothes, grumbling, "Really, the worst part is how Mello seemed to know this was inevitable."

L does laugh at that, gentle (with a touch of pride), "Tough to admit he was right?”

“Yes. Though I knew, of course,” Light hands L a bundle of clothing with distant eyes. L’s heartbeat quickens, and he doesn’t want any promises, not now.  L waits until Light is distracted with his khakis before the worry settles across his face (lake-blue and layered with justice). Mello may have been expecting this, but that probably won't make it any easier. At age thirteen Near had once stated that L brought out the worst in Mello (the passion, the blood-fire and win-lust). Matt had replied (eyes glued to his game console), that L also brought out the best in him. He had watched this conversation, and silently agreed with both of them.

Still, the shadows under his eyes are slightly paler, and Light squeezes his arm in a gesture part affectionate, part possessive as they fumble to get dressed. That, at least is consolation, as he tucks pages written with a thousand deaths into his pocket.

L shuffles out of the car, walks over to Mello. For a fleeting moment L sees the ten-year old he met seven years ago (edges still sharp from the crime scene that brought him home). Then Mello's level gaze settles to the careful detective he's become. His eyes search L's face, and for once, L isn't certain what Mello sees there. It must be acceptable, though, because after a moment Mello breathes out, and throws his arms around L's bony shoulders.

  _Unexpected._ L's arms awkwardly hug Mello's waist, pat him gently on the back. Mello pulls away after a moment, eyes slightly brighter (sunshine-dappled and guilt relieved).

"Sorry, I. I thought maybe you weren't coming back. That I was wrong, and we'd lose you."

L swallows, and allows himself, for a moment, to look the himself of six months, a few days ago, in the eye (he can’t quite fathom himself right now, which should be a lot more terrifying than it is numb). “You did the right thing, Mello.”

And the tears do make it to Mello’s eyes, though he hides it (not well), by pulling his mentor in for another tight hug. L shook his head at how absurd his life was on paper (his would-be apprentice sending his would-be murderer to prevent his own death. But then, no more ridiculous than a notebook that kills by name). He gives Mello a look that he hopes conveys gratitude. "We may not be out of the woods yet.”

“Light?”

“Mhm. And Noelle. And I'm rather certain I should still be worried about me, but that's less pressing right now,” L tries to arrange his features, but he can feel the lines slipping on his face.

Mello’s chestnut eyes soften, “Did something happen?”

The words _I tried to kill myself_ don't seem real, not to L Lawliet, although they roil underneath his skin (they itch with a lack of understanding).

“I'll tell you when I can." L notices Light, (all tense and gorgeous contrapposto), and motions for him to come over. Mello and Light size each other up. L's heartbeat quickens (feeling the faces that he presents to Light and to Mello at war within himself).

"Good to have you on board, Light." Mello says easily (ever the diplomat, though to this day L has no idea where he picked that up). Light nods sharp and flinty, and L takes the lead reluctantly. The tension between the three of them is wire-tight.

"We're facing an enemy that has no qualms about murder, and a kind of childish confidence about the breadth of her power." the script by which L falls into his old role feels natural (but not painless), "that said, I believe that breadth to be rather considerable. The chances that Noelle has compromised operatives with Wammy's is fifteen percent—"

"I'd say thirty, given the recent news from Matt—" Mello interjects (eager to impress, which cuts against L’s façade).

"How recent?"

"Yesterday. I haven't done much except watch your back and the try and track you down," the barest trace of a smile crosses Mello's face, "You're still pretty mediocre at car assaults. Lucky for you, you're almost impossible to find when you don't want to be."

"I suppose I'm lucky you were there," L bristles, Did Wammy tell you about Westminister? In fairness, I had no idea how to drive then."

"He did, and Kowloon City. When he was teaching me to drive.”

“Tch. At least I had Shanghai. In any case, we arrived in Markstay not long after Light arrived. Though I took precautions to ensure we weren’t followed, I miscalculated. Wasn’t thinking straight. This Noelle—if that is her name, is as good at disguise as B, possibly better. The fact that she revealed herself to us leaves an eighty-five percent chance that we will see deliberate action from her within the next week. She took Light--"

"That's when Near sent out the distress call. I was looking into extended leads for the SNOLAB murder--"

"And keeping tabs on me?" Light interjects with an accusation.

Mello shifts uncomfortably, "and L. I caught up with you late though, when you arrived in Markstay." (L breathes out, both safe in his secrets yet proud of Mello's thorough search).

“I told you my terms.” Light spits out, but L touches a hand to his gently, then watches Mello’s eyebrows contort and relax. The two glare electric.

“It was a reasonable thing for him to do, all risks considered.” L states, “In any case, we are in a delicate position in terms of the case. The exchange with Noelle revealed that she is not only using the Kira-cultists to support her pursuit—which is as yet unclear, but I would bet on a melodramatic biblical cleansing in Kira’s name. Seems about ten percent likely. Noelle wants Kira, that much is clear. The trade for this information was that she believes I am hunting Kira, and that Light is Kira. Hence, the dramatic chase.”

Mello’s eyes shift calculatively to Light, then gives his confusion (and accusation) to L, “L, can I speak with you alone for a moment?”

L can tell that Light doesn’t like it, not one bit, but L nods. No one moves for a beat, and then and Light backs up and holds his hands up. L keeps him in the corner of his vision (although confident Kira will not bolt, not without the notebook-pages).

“You told her Light was Kira?” Mello hisses when they are out of earshot.

"I didn't have that many options. It wasn't my first choice.” L hesitates to come clean (but really, what are his options?), "Light let her know. He ah—killed Marius Hess. Using  a fragment of the notebook."

Mello's expression flares conflicted (weighing the count of another murder on Kira's toll), "Self-defense?"

"Would that excuse it? If it was with the notebook?"

"It wouldn't be anything you or I haven't done before. Hell, some of those thugs chasing you down might be dead, I don't know. We'll clean up the mess when we've got this locked down," Mello's hands fidget nervously (he never likes to make these calls), "Is he dangerous? L, are you compromised?"

"It's under control." L paints his face _tabula rasa,_ though Mello knows it is staged, "and yes, I certainly am."

Mello gives him a discerning look, but nods. "I trust you." ( _trust yourself_ , L thinks as his heartbeat picks up uncomfortably. Mello still waits for the story-book detective that never made it beyond the pages), "Do you have the notebook?"

"Of course."

Mello just nods in approval, like he's waiting for L's instruction (waiting for a man behind a smoke screen that doesn't exists, not really). But L tries, walks back over to a seething Light and tilts his head agreeably, "We need cake, and access to the data files."

“I’ll contact Near. We’ll have to ditch your car, so take what you need.” Mello pulls out a satellite phone and dials. L wants to lace his fingers through Light’s, put his keys in the ignition, drive where the world can’t save them or be saved. He flinches at the thought (not familiar with the desire to run away. It quickens his heartbeat to an unnatural pitch). He reaches for Light’s fingertips, who glances at Mello once and pulls away (still hiding, after all these years). They strip down the car in silence, taking stock of weapons, first aid, anything of immediate use. Light folds the wool blanket, slings it over his shoulder (the sentimentality so rare that L almost misses it). For his troubles, L offers Light a small handgun.

“For self-defense,” L states with a trace of irony. Light takes it gingerly, and L hesitates, “You do know how to shoot, don’t you?”

“Of course, “ Light gives him a scathing look, shifting to half-wary, half-danger as he meets L’s grey eyes, “just…you’re giving me a gun?”

“Should I be worried about you shooting me in the back?” L puts the irony in his voice, the iron-mettle in his eyes.

“I’ve thought about it.” Light says shortly, and L forgets for a moment that Mello is nearby, presses Light against the glass and kisses him tender (as if to say, stay with me; or stay just as you are). Light pulls back, red lips and careful Kira-eyes, “You really shouldn’t kiss people after they give you death threats.”

“I’m really not known for my practicality, Light. I’ll take that as concern for my health.” They move apart just as Mello sweeps over, pale-faced and wild-eyed (anger in the grit of his teeth).

“They made a hit on Stanford. And I can't reach Near or Matt.”

L draws in a sharp breath (perhaps the stars lied, perhaps the world is indeed crumbling). "Surely not a nuclear strike?"

"Smallpox, but it's bad-- the whole school is under quarantine," Mello tears at his hair with nervous fingertips, "Look, but Stanford was our decoy-- this is almost definitely a direct target to headquarters."

"Publicized information?" L tries to cut through Mello's panic.

“On the Qnet, so more or less. Shit. L, what’s our next move?” Mello tears at him with his words, L biting his thumbnail in response.

“We either move immediately, or we strategize based on what we know—and I think the best option might be to take stock of what we’ve got.”

“Just leave Near and Matt?” Mello’s voice is reaching fever pitch, and L doesn’t know (has never known) how to calm him down, only how to key him up.

“No—but we might be able to predict their movements based on connections to the Kira-cult— “

"My god, if they're hostages-- Light is our only bargaining chip." Mello turns wild eyes to Light, who clenches his fist and backs into the dirt, “Since they want Kira—“

"There's no way in hell--" Light snarls, cruel and selfish.

"Shut up, for god's sake, I'm trying to think of options." Mello practically screams (lit fuse, Matchstick Mello they used to call him. L has to talk him down).

"Mello, you're letting your emotions make your decisions--"

"You don't get to fucking talk to me like you didn't leave, you had a job to do and you're too fucking compromised to do it--"

"Don't talk to him like that--" Light jumps to his defense (killer-eyes and slightly terrifying).

"Enough!" it comes out more desperate than commanding (he is caged, it must flash blue on his face). Mello steps back and Light reaches for him but he flinches. L closes his eyes, then gives his best resolve, “I’m sorry. Mello, you are correct. I haven’t been able to give this case the attention it needs. But I can’t think with you two at each other’s throats.”

Light glares (as if to say, _hestartedit_ ), and Mello turns his head curtly, all-serious-eyed, and steps away.

“I’m taking a walk,” L means it to be a declaration, but it feels like an escape as he picks up pace towards the nearby trail. He doesn't stick around to see how this one ends, starts down the trail, forcing himself to think furiously. _Stanford target elimination, nuclear apocalypse, Kira's world, new world, number theory, challenge, winning, who is she? Are Near and Matt...?_ He pushes that thought way and breathes slowly. Distantly, the cars rush by on the highway, and in his awareness he recognizes the insidious desire to run, to embrace nothingness (grey as sleep). His hands, (pale and ratchety from overuse) tangle together nervously as he fights it. He pictures Light, Mello, Wammy, Matt, Near in series (then in reverse). He bites his thumb and lets images of Adeline, Beyond whisper-scream for a moment, then paints his mind blank again. The sweet smell of lupins (tall and bending slightly in the breeze) washes calmly over him. He crouches with familiar resolve (if he's lucky, old habits die hard), and begins sketching in the dirt.

 The gust grows stronger, and he turns to catch a wing-beat of air as the Shinigami Ryuk descends next to him (omen of death, always the contrarian).

"You and Light have a lover's spat so quick?" Ryuk grins (after a moment of L tacitly ignoring him).

“As much as I’d like to pick on Light with you, Ryuk, I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” he doesn’t look up.

“Jeez, you and Light are two of a kind. Broody schemers. At least your scheming keeps things _interesting_.”

L sighs, “What are you doing here?”

"Eh, waiting to see if possession of the Death Note passes to you. Not sure if it will-- the rules are clear as mud. Also it might be _interesting_ if Light loses his memories." Ryuk guffaws slightly, “Don’t let me distract you.”

"Could that happen, though?" L puts a hand on the notebook warily (the last thing he needs is a bout of unnecessary amnesia).

"I’d guess as long as Light feels like the Death Note belongs to him. That particular Death Note's a weird case."

"What's unusual about it? Does it have to do with why you owed Light a favour?"

“Hm—oh, that. Ha, you are good," Ryuk grins back (all rotten-wisdom and age-apathy), "Yeah, I got myself in a bit of trouble with the Shinigami King. Turns out the punishment stealing a Death Note is technically giving up your own Death Note. Who knew? Not that it's usually enforced, usually Shinigami just get away with it-- but ah, I tend to get myself in a lot of messes, and I think the King was lookin’ for an excuse to laugh in my face."

"Mm--" L splits his attention between the fascinating challenge at his feet (fingers twitching, it's like the Kira case, but with better stakes) and the myth-murderer next to him.

“Of course, there was no way Light was giving his back. So he ah, cut me a deal, literally. He gave up pages of the Death Note-- I mean, technically they don't run out of pages, but no human ever really shares them, except for a page or two."

"You can make a second notebook? Or as many as you like?" L is half-fascinated, half-horrified by the prospect, and abandons his design for a moment.

“Eh, I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe? Light just gave me about twenty-some-odd of his pages, which should keep me going until he kicks the bucket. In return— I promised him that delivery. Also his life, thought I'm pretty sure I can't kill him as long as the pages belong to him. He doesn't know that, though."

"And you'll keep your end of that bargain?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the way Ryuk's teeth quirk isn't quite truthful.

"You're bluffing." L states (like reading god-monsters is what he does for a living).

"Ah, well there's not really an honour among Shinigami, but I kind of owe the guy, and it's not like I have anything better to do. Besides, because Light technically owns that Death Note, I'm free to go wherever. You know they've got these things called soap operas, see? Very funny. Very interesting."

L suppresses a smile as the connections come together (juxtaposed with the bizarre image of a Shinigami watching soap operas). He draws a line in the sand, draws a conclusion, _we’ll hear from her soon. Her terms. But for now, I think we are safe._ He stands, “I suppose you'll be sticking around?"

"If we're bein' honest here, I missed having you around, L. You and Light are probably the most exciting thing to happen to the human world short of that time when a Shinigami dropped his eyes instead of his Death Note. Heh." Ryuk leers at him, as if having some personal joke at L’s expense.

L knows he should return to the world of the living (still-barely living), but he has one more question from the over-world, "You still have your eyes, don’t you? You can see my name, and date of death.”

Ryuk grins, split like a juicy apple, “Sure can, but don’t even think about asking. That’s bad, even for me.”

“I thought as much,” L’s hands measure even amidst the dirt the desire for more time-- and the desire for time to simply cease.

* * *

 

_February 14 2006_

_L,_

_It's always the littlest things that keep me from writing again, keep me writing to you again. I'll see a man mugging a prostitute and wish I had the Death Note on me. Then I'll buy apples on the way home and think of caramel and you and it all goes rotten._

_I know I can command gods-- I can make paper, blood, flesh bend to Kira's will._

_I can't make myself do that, though. Not as long as you're alive._

* * *

 

As soon as L is mainly out of hearing range, Mello starts pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. Light is torn between wanting to punch Mello again, wanting to run after L, and strangely, wanting to stop Mello’s pacing, tell him to hold still and figure it out. _Or let me figure it out. That seems like the most productive option, in any case._

“Fuck.” Mello stops and presses his hands to his eyes.

"You should calm down,” Light states, and is surprised to hear the slight note of concern in his own voice, “Panicking isn’t going to help them.”

“I know, I _know_ ,” Mello snaps, running his hands through his hair.

“Are there any distress calls?”

“No, not so far.”

“Okay, focus then. You said that Stanford was a leak, which means that Wammy's itself isn't compromised. Did everyone you trust know of the leak?"

"Yes. _Yes_ , that eliminates the possibility of the hacking being an inside job. _Damn_ , whoever this Noelle is, she’s good. Or her people are good.”

“So are yours,” _as loath as I am to admit it_ , Light’s lips twitch bitter at that, “Near and Matt would move quickly if they believed that they were being hunted. How long ago did the news drop about the virus?”

“Just under an hour… the logical conclusion must be that they’re on the move, but they’re safe. For now.” Mello exhales carefully, “Yes. That makes sense.”

Light nods level at him. “So, what’s your next move?”

Mello looks at him, hard, “You know, you’re a lot kinder than I expected.” then he turns back, a flurry of movement to bring out a small laptop, keeping the screen angled away from Light. _He still doesn’t trust me. Fine_. Light tries to reason what he can, but his head whirls whenever he thinks about the knife to his throat, his hands still shaking against the almost-death. _And yet_ , a seductive whisper in his ear,  _the Death Note protects. Kira protects._ _Kira kills._ He pushes the death toll against his thoughts. 

“I meant what I said, though,” Mello says softly behind the slight taint of the screen, “We likely will have to use the fact that you’re Kira. Impossible not to, now that they know you’re alive.”

 _Damn him_. Light sets his jaw, looks out at the dewy morning, "It doesn’t matter. I know I’m just waiting for you or Near to bring me to justice, because god knows L won’t do it.”

Mello looks at him sadly, “The both of you are so eager to count yourselves out. I’d give you both a good sixty-eight percent survival at this point. But I suppose that's a possibility."

"It's the only possibility."

"No, Light, there are always others."

Light clenches his fists against the hypocrisy, "It's justice. There isn't a way out."

"Didn't you once believe that Kira stood for justice?"

Light lets his furious glare answer that question, but Mello doesn't flinch. He stares back, not demanding, simply asking. _Goddamn him. Just like L._ Mello seems to read that, and he shakes his head, looks away.

"If there's one thing that my job has taught me...it's that justice really doesn't mean anything. It means what you make it. And you can make it pretty fucked up if you're the only one making the decisions. And then it'll fuck you up. Trust me. I've seen it. We do what we can."

Light laughs, short and bitter. _I know that best of all. Or maybe L does._ "Did you learn that from L?"

"I learned it from Beyond. You know, you're not the first murderer who's fallen in with L," Mello sizes him up with discerning brown eyes, “Although you’re less terrifying than B. Much bigger body count, so I guess it evens out. I’m not sure.”

Despite the way the accusation stings between pride and shame, Light succumbs to his curiousity and demands, "Who is this B? I keep hearing L talk about him, but I haven't asked. Yet."

"It's best that you don't push," Mello makes a face somewhere between a grimace and nostalgia, "That's a hell of a story. But it actually might be relevant to the case, based on the way things are going. He was L's second successor. After A. A ah, she killed herself--"

"I have heard that story," Light stops him, seeing the way pain flashes against his features. Mello stops, relief palpable.

"Yeah, so that was A. B− Beyond Birthday— was his second successor, and perhaps the closest...to L.

“Sorry, Beyond Birthday?” _The name seems familiar_. Light's memory spins over lists of scrawled names.

“Yeah—he was pretty much as odd as you would expect from the name. I met him a few times. Sometimes he went by Ryuzaki.”

A memory flashes through Light, of a half-truth whispered in the dark of a haunted house. _Perhaps he wasn’t wholly lying. Though…what made him fear his own successor?_ He nods at Mello to continue, greedy to learn of L’s ghosts.

“God, they were a hell of a team, or so the rumors around Wammy's went. A was more of a loner, but she worked closely with L at the same time as B. Beyond though, he became L's eyes out in the field. He was a flawless mimic, a crack shot, unpredictable as a madman, but brilliantly deductive. He was the reason Wammy came up with a separate program for field agents. And him and L...well they had an interesting relationship, so to speak." Mello bit his lip, hesitating, "I don't know the details. But they were...involved. I think it was mostly one-sided. B's admiration of L...well let's just say it probably went further than it should. There was a lot that wasn't quite right about him."

Light grimaces, “L mentioned that they were…alike somehow.”

“Yeah—both mad brilliant, bored, hate to lose. Beyond emphasized the likeness, always using his mimicry to make him look like L. I don’t even know what his face looked like, since he always looked like…L. It was his own private joke. In a strange way, I think it was his tribute to L. But after A’s death—“ here, Mello’s breath catches, “Well, he went out and murdered two people, then tried to kill himself.”

Light gapes slightly _,_ the flash of one of the first names scrawled in the Death Note returning to him,“Did he go insane?”

Mello shrugs, tapping the computer screen lightly, then typing with a flash in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was insane before. But he decided that L needed to be beaten, I guess. So he was trying to create the perfect crime. It’s admirable, really. If he hadn’t underestimated Misora, he would have completely succeeded,” stricken guilt washes over Light’s face at the mention of the name Misora. _So it’s true she worked with L. She might have saved L's life, and I forced her to commit suicide._ Mello stares at Light, a cruel, but sad smile playing on his lips.

"I had wondered. Brought it up to Near when the other Note passed into our vaults," he sizes Light up calculatively, "For the record, both of them deserved a better murder. I’m guessing Misora figured out the missing link, but that you got to her first?”

“Don’t expect a confession,” Light glares, but Mello gazes back, steely and demanding, and it scrapes against his resolve to the guilt beneath, “Yes.”

Mello nods curtly, once, “It’s good that you admit to it, at least. I’ll tell you this, Light, remorse is as complicated as justice, and rarely as predictable. But here—at least some good has come of this.” he spins the computer screen forward, which shows a map, as well as profiles of a few of the victims.

“There have been two hits with the smallpox virus since yesterday, in two different locations. What's suggestive is that there were multiple patient zero's-- specifically, four at the first, and three at the second. Too far apart and completely unrelated. It's a bit of a long shot, but I'd say there's a sixty percent chance they're a representative of the dolls that B used to leave at his crime scenes. That's a taunt to L. The tribute to Kira is that all the patient zeros fit the Kira profile -- all of them are criminals, but not convicted."

Light's stomach churns excitement and revulsion. _This is the legacy Kira left on the world. It's still very much alive._ He shoves down the exhilaration, fills it up with desire for  _right, my right, there is no right,_ and shoves that thought back too. "Whoever this is really has done their research."

"It doesn't fit, that it isn't an inside job."

The phone rings, and Mello fumbles for it once, picks up, “Near? Oh, thank fuck, Matt. Are you both safe?”

Light steps back, lets Mello hide the relief on his face.  As he continues a few steps up the trail, he sees L squatting in his usual thinking pose, with a familiar skeletal figure looming behind him.

“L,” he says softly, nodding once to Ryuk. L stands fluidly, and Light takes his hand. _Whatever this call brings, I'm taking you with me._ The thought has tenderness and destruction in equal measure.

“Near and Mello are fine.” L states it like he knows, _most likely figured it out_ , and Light just nods and grips tight a moment. The highway whispers against the breeze, and the two figures with the ghost-god behind them.

“She’s going to contact us soon, Light. This move was a direct challenge—to show us where her power lies. But she’s not as strong as she believes.”

“Neither am I, and neither are you,” it slips from his lips before he can purse them tight, “I’ll do what I can.”

L turns his head up, the height difference only slight, and presses the softest of kisses to the corner of his mouth. Light hadn’t realized he was capable of such smaller wonders, such moments. He presses his forehead against L’s black hair. Counts a heartbeat, once, twice. Then takes L by the hand without hesitation, back to the car, back to the game of life and death.

Mello smiles grim and soft at L when they return, and gives Light a bracing, sharp-eyed look, “Near and Matt will be meeting us, so we best get going. And Light? There’s a message for Kira.”

* * *

 

_November 21 2004_

_I miss your fingers so badly I want to break them._

_L. L. L. L._

_To stop feeling like this seems impossible, to keep living like this seems unthinkable, but I think, I think I want to live. I don’t want to die. I don’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this chapter took to put out...god, I found it really hard to write, and I'm still not happy with it, but so it goes. I think this is what happens when you try to mix 'two years gone' with 'action-mystery-thriller' which are like, basically at odds in terms of tone... it has its moments, I guess. 
> 
> RANDOM PROMPT (not sure where these go really, so someone tell me): Bookbinder's Guild AU. Bonus points if Light learns to make copies of the Death Note. I'm not going to pursue this, but it would be interesting, and I would definitely read it. 
> 
> Chapter theme is Regina Spektor's 'Blue Lips' (of course it's her, who do you think I am...)
> 
> (I'm just going to kind of hide until the next chapter happens, okay? okay.)


	8. wind in the wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for sexual content, but not explicit in this chapter. Also a lot of technobabble.

The journey to the safe house is a tense, but settled one. Mello in the driver's seat, keeping steady hands on the wheel (nervous ears for another call). L Lawliet has his eyes on the mirror, hand clenched around the R-580. He glances back to Light (who looks rather comical in the improvised disguise of a black-haired wig with red highlights. Not that L looks any less so, face thick with dark makeup meant to emphasize his Japanese roots). Light has his hands in the black-leather kit of forensic tests, pulls out the blood sample kit (classically beautiful hands hovering over the custom-designed equipment of all types).

“I highly doubt any of us have been infected with smallpox,” L states, producing his hand for the needle (ignoring the soft shock of pleasure at Light's touch), “The risk of exposure for Noelle would be too great. But best to be safe, for Matt and Near’s sake. We’ll be able to complete a platelet count once we arrive.”

L mulls over the knot-work of the case once again, as he takes a second needle to sample Mello’s arm (Mello doesn’t even flinch, steady along a tight turn along the dirt road). The plot is beginning to unravel, take concrete shape in his mind. The spiteful cleverness of the moves deliberately against him—the murder written A’s wrists was clearly meant to provoke a reaction from him, to prove out that he was the L of stories whispered by orphaned children caught in a deadly game (and had he not performed exactly as expected?). No matter, the theory of a bright, promising young mind exposed to Wammy’s seems certain (he gives it eighty percent) – perhaps passed over for detective work, perhaps working under Q briefly (that’s at sixty-two percent). But one who slipped through the cracks (and off the radar?) a prodigal daughter seduced by a new brand of rhetoric: Kira’s justice.

 It’s not only an exciting game, a puzzle to win, it’s also a fascinating story. Prior to the Kira case, he would have only taken cases that had this rare quality (cases where he would write and rewrite the ending to that story, a remembrance both bitter and exhilarating in turn). Not that many years ago, he would have rated the case a three, possibly a three-and-a-half, and lost himself in it mercilessly (he shivers against that temptation).

"L," Light's urgent voice cuts through his thoughts, "not to sound paranoid, but I think this blanket might be radioactive.” He holds up the miniature Geiger counter from the kit.

“ _Oh,_ ” L smiles omniscient at that, the shape of the story gaining further detail, “Marish Lake . Of course, of course.  Light, if you look on the underside of the kit, there should be sealable bags of varying sizes for evidence, please deposit the blanket in there. We must also be registering a few Sieverts above expected levels, am I right?”

Light nods, looking pale but resolute (facing mortality and conspiracy isn’t quite old hat to him), “We’re probably facing a slight increase in risk of lymphoma, but nothing worse.”

“Excellent,” the old shiver of the puzzle coming together, a beat behind, but nonetheless sparkling with discovery.

 “Nice find, Light,” Mello’s voice is grim, but there’s a flash in his eyes that betrays the optimism L saw in him as a child, “Good timing too. We should be able to confirm that at the house, and see how to proceed when we hear her demands.”

Mello slows the car to a quick park in front of an old, ornate-looking farmhouse on the edge of Sudbury. With its diamond-glass windows and beaten wood, it looks more like a fairy tale cottage than an outpost for police work (which is essentially why L purchased it, along with about thirty others around the world, so many years ago). He runs his finger along the iron of the railing, wondering why he had never found a moment to look in on the place. The metal makes a soft, bell-like noise when he flicks it (it lingers in his ears while Mello fumbles with the key). He'd gotten used to it come the end of the Kira case.  

On the inside, the house is relatively innocuous (cheery finish with dark accents), if coated with a thin layer of dust. L reaches into the back of the hall closet, pushing with a particular sensitivity in two places to move the false door. It leads to a narrow staircase, winding down to a white room outfitted as a forensic lab.

Light, cool in his efficiency (or perhaps terrified for his mortality) wastes no time in preparing the samples to load into the platelet counter. L, for his part, stretches out the woolen blanket (breathing out the ghost of a sigh as the scent of pressed linen, gunpowder, and caramel tones washes over him), and begins extracting parts of the silt from the lake with careful hands. The compact mass spectrometer will no doubt identify the compounds present—and confirm his theory. While the analysis proceeds, L shuffles over to a small pantry in the corner and produces some gummy bears, which he proceeds to devour. He offers some to Mello (who smiles sidelong and takes a few), then to Light.

“L, I can’t eat those while processing blood samples.”

“Why ever not?” L mumbles through a mouthful. Light just shakes his head and turns back to the slides (all wrapped in the calm crisis-mask L remembers). L frowns and examines the silt analysis.

“In any case, Mello, we’re looking at Plutonium-239, Uranium-235, Uranium-238.”

“So a W88 warhead?”

“Or a similar model. As I recall, this was the focus of the Los Almos MIRVISH project, which checks out with Dr. Lawrence and Dr. Michels involvement. Speaking of which, do we have any information on the movements of the latter?”

"That won’t be necessary," a black 'N' tiles the corner's wall of screens, “We already have her in custody, by a tip which would have been traced to L’s activities.”

“Near,” L bristles at the intrusion (no doubt to Near’s satisfaction). The three of them circle back to the small meeting area delineated by a cool black couch.

“Mello, Light, L, I'm sure you will soon be joining us in the Reading Room soon.”

Mello smiles (clouds clearing after a rainstorm, far too optimistic, as always), “It’s good to hear you’re safe, Near. Is Matt with you?”

"We're glad you all made it!" a differently modulated yell comes through (tinged with Matt's brash enthusiasm).

"Yes. While we wait for the lab results, you will need to review this footage sent by the organization known as the Disciples of Judgment.  It is addressed both to L and to Kira personally. We will then outline how to proceed in order to defuse the situation."

L turns his gaze to Light, sitting stark-rigid on the corner of the couch (his amber eyes burning terror and exhilaration in equal measure. L is quite certain he feels the same). Light catches him staring, and sets his mouth in a firm line, “Show us the message, Near.” One by one the screens flicker to black.

" _Greetings L. If you're as efficient as expected, you should be receiving this message shortly after the first victims in Stanford are reported,”_ the voice is modulated through a filter similar to L’s own (a tribute and a mockery in one), _“No doubt you will have also made the connection between MIRVISH and the Disciples of Judgment, so you will know this ultimatum is not an empty one. You have thirty-six hours from the receiving of this message to present yourself and Kira at the coordinates  N_ _46.471920, W 81.186460. Fail to comply, and we will target the five largest prisons in the world with a nuclear strike. This action is not preferable for either of our organizations, so we look forward to your cooperation. The following message is for Kira. Failure to pass the message along will result in retribution, though it's likely you won't be alive to see it.”_

L grits his teeth (the wash of powerlessness blue over him), and turns his eyes sidelong to Light as the message runs.

_“Kira, god. The knowledge that you are still alive and with us is cause for much rejoicing. We have been making ready for your Second Coming for years, such that others may continue your noble cleansing of the world. We are indebted to you, and your immortal justice. And for that, the honor of killing L will be yours alone. The era of the inefficient, hypocritical mockery of justice will end. True judgment will rise, and the world will be made anew. I look forward to putting myself in service of that world. Until we meet again, Kira.”_

A deafening silence follows the broadcast. L casts his eyes over to Light, whose hands are shaking, eyes scream righteous anger ( _iwontletthemtouchyou_ , they whisper to L). L almost wants to laugh at his naiveté, if the situation weren’t so serious. The platelet counter makes a chirp (causing everyone to jump). Light escapes from their gaze, looks over the results.

“We’re clean.” he manages hoarsely. L tries to give him a bracing glance, but Light doesn’t meet his eyes. They exit the room in silence, up two flights to a room painted in white, the walls lined with books. In the corner, Near is constructing a structure out of magnetic bars and spheres (that L recognizes as the form of an old mine). Matt kicks his feet off the desk and immediately embraces Mello, who wraps his arms tight around Matt’s skinny back. When they break apart, Near has his hand in Mello’s, pulls him into a demanding kiss (L shares a brief, uncomfortable glance with Light). Near breaks off in a moment, returning to his constructions without a word.

“Sort of sorry you had to see that,” Matt grins as he kisses Mello on the cheek (no, he certainly is not sorry). He gives L a once-over (trying to hide his starry-eyes), “So, you slouch a lot more than I expected, but I totally got the eyes right. It is an honor.”

He does a theatrical little bow, and Mello smiles for the first time since the morning. A sharp crack, and the rolling of magnetic marbles calls their attention to Near, who has overturned a container of them.

“If we may begin,” Near gives L a challenging glance, which morphs to blank as he turns, "Light. I hope you know that, come the conclusion of this investigation, your fate lies in the hands of myself and Mello. Failure to cooperate to the best of your considerable abilities will result in your execution."

“I understand,” Light states, and L is surprised by the steel in his voice. Mello looks up from his seat next to Matt (giving L an approving nod).

"The good news is that the case, barring this message, is in a reasonably good position. Marius Hess led us to identifying many other stakeholders in the Disciples of Judgement. Matt has identified the channels through which they communicate, and the game they’ve been playing with L has made their moves predictable. However, there remains one critical question, _where_ their nuclear research is taking place. Matt and I have identified several leads, but all of them less than a thirty percent chance of holding up."

"I can close that gap—“ L cuts in smoothly,  “The nuclear research, and given the size and depth, likely the entire operation is situated under Marish Lake, in Capreol."

Near raises an eyebrow, "Operationally extremely difficult, but given the resources of our opponent so far? The security would be unparalled. Hidden in plain sight, as it were. Do we know the type of weapon to expect?"

“W-80 missiles, based on the on-site sample analysis,” Mello chimes in, “Which makes sense given the target size.”

“Most of the credit to Light for that find,” L admits.

“It’s that kind of creative thinking we need,” Near adds another bar to his dense network , “They're holding the world hostage right now-- we have to proceed under the assumption that they could strike at any moment if we do not cooperate. But with this last piece, we have enough information to deal a blow against them, with a sixty-one percent chance of taking down their entire operation.”

L sees a concrete shape, a structure to the way Near’s building is forming, the quickly rendered hexagonal prism, he suspects, represents a lake (Near’s silver-white signature of brutal efficiency), “What are you proposing?”

“What I’m proposing is that we cooperate—as a distraction— with her demands. Nothing will make her believe she has the upper hand more than L simply agreeing to meet her as outlined. In fact, I suspect she believes you would sooner risk a nuclear strike than yield to her.”

L clenches his jaw, but keeps his features blank (against the thinly veiled accusation), “That would perhaps have been my style.”

“So we take her by surprise. Mello will infiltrate the Sudbury laboratory shortly before the both of you arrive. Given our prior analysis of SNOLAB, and Mello’s talents, it should be manageable, if dangerous. He will keep his eyes on both of you, and relay any additional information to myself. Matt has been on the cusp of unraveling their communications framework for days, but we were interrupted by the need to evacuate. Due to the sensitive nature of her demands, we will need to provide Kira and L as a distraction. I can provide a team to dismantle the nuclear laboratory, but I need to give them more time, and higher chances.”

“And what do you think our chances are?” Light demands sharply.

Near gives him a blank glance, “With Mello backing you, perhaps forty-two percent. Depends on whether you’re as good as your reputation suggests, Kira.”

“Near,” Mello gives him a warning look.

“If they want L, they can be damn sure they will get Kira” Light turns away (eager to be damned in any way offered?), “I'll do it."

L is unable to mask his look of surprise (which Mello catches with a rueful look). "Light, you--"

"There are no other options," Light's voice cuts through (broken-glass and resolute), "or at the very least, this has the best chances."

Light's eyes burn a slow fire (murder-eager), steeling L's ice-black to a decision (which the self-destructive part of him is eager for). "You're right. Near, we will do this your way, then."

Near nods without looking away from his model, "Mello, please spend what time you can preparing Light for the hostage situation. L, I would like a word with you, alone.”

Light’s face flashes angry, terrified, paints back to resigned. L wants to reach for him, but Light turns in a moment, already following Mello and Matt out the door. It closes with a heavy thud.

"You might be interested to know the identity of one Noelle Linnaeus." Near produces a set of files, a paper trail from the original registry at Wammy's. _Carol Watson_. She was a pretty, tacit thing with darker hair back then. Brought in by A after her parents died in a cult mass-suicide. Genius intellect, natural aptitude for computers, but was re-adopted by an aunt three years after her arrival (only a week, L notes with a pang of guilt, after Adeline's death). Any attempts to trace her had been either unrevealing or simply unsuccessful.

"Her work with Q certainly did not go wasted. Her infiltration not only destroyed her records, it wormed it's way into Matt's database-compare to destroy the backups," Near stares blankly at L (who gives him an equally expressionless look), "No doubt she took precautions in case Kira's abilities passed to us."

"I doubt even she could reason out the possibility of a Death Note." L feels the weight of the notebook in his pocket.

"Then the question remains," Near puts on a show of disinterest, "do we share this information with Light?"

"No."

“And I quote, ‘I would trust him with my life’,” Near gives L a dangerous look, “I hope I can hold you to that. We’re in a tight position with this ruse, and this game with Kira is the reason for it.”

“At this point, wouldn’t the alternative have been too slow?” L matches his danger with a glare worthy of lives on the line, “Noelle has only gotten sloppy just now because of Kira. No doubt because of her belief in Kira’s power—or her desire to acquire it, might be both.”

Near knots his eyebrows, but inclines his head (always the enigma, always the game-changer), “I’ll admit that the case caught us by surprise, since it hit so close to our organization, and was so efficient in the execution. Mello believes her primary target to be you, as a combination of residual obsession from her time here and a desire to avenge the god Kira that she believes in.”

“To Mello’s credit, he has excellent instincts,” L nibbles his thumb (to Near’s credit, he is always realistic about any situation), “though not without risks.”

“This entire situation is a risk."

“Then let’s not take any more than necessary,” L drawls, and Near smiles sharp at that.

“You’re lucky she’s melodramatic enough to let Kira kill you. Likely because your legend at Wammy’s is everyone’s obsession, and Kira your greatest nemesis.” L internally flinches at the way the words hit home (the monsters crawling from the woodwork to tear up the world in his name). Near turns back to his construction.

“I don’t recall you ever being obsessed with it,” L is almost surprised to hear himself speaking. Near doesn’t look up from his constructions, but L can tell in the way his fingers fumble over the marble-like magnets that it comes to a surprise to Near as well.

“What do you mean by that?”

L hesitates, but the words come out before he has time (perhaps he has been spending too much time with Mello), “You operate differently from me.”

 “Only since Mello.”  Near states calmly (pale with vulnerability, and it softens in L). The three of them, if nothing else, have begun to create their own legacy. _Perhaps better to leave that behind, should this game be the end of us._

"I'm sorry." L almost whispers it, but Near hears, turns his grey eyes (to meet their match).

"Why?"

“I didn't realize how painful it would be. When I put Mello in danger, forced you to make that choice.” L’s eyes spark flinty to regret, “I think it was important. But it may have been too much.”

Near looks down, "Mello is right that I should thank you for it. But you know I won't." Near surprises L, and gets up from off the floor, stands to stare his mentor in the eyes (cold-edged and blank, but softness at the corners), "L. I certainly don't like you. But it took a bomb strapped to my rival-- my lover -- to get me to admit that he meant something to me," Near takes a breath, "It was a flaw in my approach. I'm working on it now."

"I had to as well. Still do."

"Mello would like it if I told you that you're important to me. Not as important as he is...but still. Family."

L vividly remembers a six-year old Nate River, clinging to his thigh as he pointed out illustrations in 'The Boy Who Went Forth to Learn Fear'. "I think of you as family as well," he says softly (and Near's eyes, for once, soften to match his).

A gesture seems empty and clichéd, but again, Near surprises him by holding out a hand (which feels strangely intimate, as Near is averse to touch from anyone other than Mello and Matt). L takes it, half-handshake, half reassuring squeeze, “If anything happens tomorrow—we’ll take care of it.”

L feels as if he is fading slowly to white (signing the paper a death warrant) when he nods his head and releases Near’s hand.

* * *

 

_December 11 2004_

_L_

_Sometimes I wonder how this all started, how the fuck I got into this mess. It’s fitting, I realized that I felt the same way picking up the death note as I did when we fucked for the first time, in that hotel room like nothing else existed, like our worlds weren’t burning, like we weren’t lighting them up to watch them._

_Sometimes I tell myself it’s because I was bored. It was because I was fascinated._

 

* * *

The remainder of the day is spent in frantic activity. Mello gives Light a crash-course in advanced techniques for deception, subterfuge, how to read murder in the knot of an eyebrow. L and Near run through the blueprints for SNOLAB, and then retreat to the Reading Room after exchanging dark glares. Light is desperately thankful for the opportunity to think about everything but the impending gambit.

By the closing of the day, L is huddled around Matt’s laptop, alternating between providing advice as to how to coordinate the cyber-attack and eating handfuls of jellybeans. Light watches them with the barest hint of a smile, before the reality of what they will be facing rushes back. _I have to protect them, no matter what the cost. I have to protect justice._ The last thought echoes in his memories. He’s quite certain he had similar thoughts when killing Raye Penber.

“Their network architecture is not bad, but a data DMZ was a mistake to put their faith into,” Matt is rapt as he gestures at a diagram on the screen.”

“To their credit, Matt, I think you might be the only person who could crack it, at least quietly.”

“Or you.”

“Yes, but it would take me longer, and I would have needed input from Q or yourself,” L runs his fingers through his hair with a measure of distaste, “Mm, I’m going to turn over the possibility of an alternative infrastructure again, but I think the data that you’ve shown me disproves it. I’ll get cleaned up and think it over. I think my hair may still be radioactive.”

L hops from his perch off the chair, brushing his hand gently over Light’s shoulder to shock him out of his reverie. L leaves the room without a word. Light shakes his head with a bitter twist to his lips, and turns the opposite way.

"What, you two don't shower together?" Matt calls back, but Light simply rolls his eyes and continues towards the end of the hall. His heartbeat is beginning to settle to a strange calm. The hunger within him, for blood, for perfect marble-gold justice is eager for tomorrow. _I can have the justice Kira wanted. It would be so simple._ But the whisper is empty, and he realizes it has been empty for two years. Light holds fast to the mirage, because letting it go could mean letting go of what might save them both tomorrow. His eyes roam over the countryside, which is sun-quiet, covered with flowers.  After a long time watching, listening to the passing of time, a tall figure appears beside him.

“I likely won’t see you in the morning,” Mello is grim, but kind, watching the sky darken in a reflection of the moment they met, “But good luck. For what it’s worth, I’d give the two of you together a good seventy-three percent.”

Light simply nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Keep sharp, Light. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Light nods and shakes the hand that Mello offers, before wandering, barely-thinking, to the bedroom he and L would be sharing. He hesitates in the door frame, looking in. L is hunched over the glow of his laptop screen, digging his bare toes into the surface of the bed. His inky black hair is still damp from being washed, one spider-like finger pressed against his lower lip. Light smiles, in spite of himself. _At least some things never change._

"What?" L tilts his head owlishly at Light's staring from the door.

"Nothing,” Light walks in to sit next to L on the patterned quilt, "Just reminded of old times. You're going to stay up all night, aren't you."

"I likely should not, since we're going in--" L bites his finger, shuffles his beautiful bare feet like a habit he can’t shake off, "but past experience would say yes. Insomnia is one of many reasons I'm better suited to analytical work.”

Light gazes over his shoulder at a set of blueprints for SNOLAB’s underground facilities, the levels of depth flashing by amidst sketches of hidden rooms. The reality of tomorrow is only half-simmering in his consciousness, mercifully numb in the presence of L.

"Are you ready to become Kira?" L asks, which ought to shatter the moment, but Light simply considers it distantly.

"No-- or maybe I have been for two years."

"Here, make yourself useful." L takes Light's hands delicately, the way he handles evidence, and settles them on his shoulders.

"You're such a little shit." Light presses his fingers into the knot of L’s muscles nonetheless, still floating in the calm before the storm.

“I am willing to admit that you are quite good at that,” L hums and arches his shoulder blades. _Do you think we could just…keep this up?_ Light wishes he could ask for that again, or be asked, and say yes, and _mean_ yes. _But even after all this time, it still wouldn’t be enough for either of us_. _It’s not in our nature_. They stay quiet for a moment, L’s eyes flickering over details of the case, but mainly pressing into Light’s touch.

"What have you figured out? Impress me, Ryuzaki." Light keeps his voice teasing, but from the brief tension across L's shoulders, he can tell the question is not necessarily welcome.

"So far I've deduced who to expect will meet us at our arrival, Noelle’s second in-command, and their supplier for the plutonium.”

"I’m curious about the second one. How did you find that one out?”

The tension is almost imperceptible then, a casual statement, “Simply some connections between MIRVISH and certain members of the cult.”

“You’re hiding something.” Silence. Light keeps his hands on L’s shoulders, “Near has figured out who she is, hasn’t he?”

Again, L chooses to confirm his statement with silence. _Goddamn him._

"You don't just know who she is. You know her name, too. You've decided to keep it from me."

L inclines his head slightly, unfolds the Death Note from where it resides, close to him. "As a precaution, yes."

"You'll give me your name, but keep hers from me?" Light can taste the sharpness in his voice, and L must see it too, because he pulls away from Light, stares at him wordlessly, "Was that Near's idea?"

"It was mine." L gives him a discerning gaze. _Is that fear or curiosity?_ It's always been difficult to tell with him, "Do you think that was unwise?"

"The opposite," Light states brutally, "How much do you trust me right now?"

"More than fifty-two percent, Light-Kira."

"I'm starting to think you just make those numbers up."

"How much do you trust yourself?" L gives him the wide mirror-eyes that demand truthfulness. _I don't. Not when it comes to Kira._

"Sixteen percent," Light acquiesces to playing L's game, "and yes, I made that up."

That earns him the quirk of a smile from L, though the tilt is sad, "I should like to look at your Death Note."

Light tenses white-knuckles into his hands. _I should have expected this._ He nods sharply, a strange calm settling over him. _He should know who he’s giving his life over to, understand how badly this may turn._

"Where should I begin?" L asks almost gently.

"At the beginning." Light states tonelessly, and L looks away sharply. 

"By your count there are three names that I am unaware of. I've had my suspicions since gaining possession of Misa's Death Note. It was clever of you to disguise the way Kira could kill for so long.”

Light stares at him, brutal honesty slipping out, "Sometimes, I don't understand how you can talk about this so plainly. But then it makes perfect sense."

L tenses in the cord of his muscles as his eyes flicker over the death of Naomi Misora, “I’ve always known the kind of monster you are, Light-Kira. It takes one to know one.” his fingers touch the brief description of her suicide, _accuse me of everything, tear me up, damn me,_ Light begs with his eyes, but L simply continues to turn the pages.

"The names stop on the next page." Light states almost inaudibly, "then there are the letters."

L gives him a terrifyingly serious look, and for a moment, Light wants to snatch the Death Note from his hands and _burn it_ , "You wrote to me."

"You asked how I stopped killing. I wrote to you."

From the distance across the bed, L's spider fingers trace over the pages of the Death Note, past the names and on to the letters that Light realizes he never meant to be read. L bites his thumbnail, turns the pages one by one. _It’s been two years and those words mean nothing and everything. He will know everything about me he will see what I am._ The pages continue to turn, the only sound other than his own heartbeat. Light watches L intently, wanting to turn away. L’s face only shifts by bare inches, but his eyes flicker kaleidoscopes of emotion. Though he traces through the letters quickly, every second seems to take hours. When he reaches the final letter, his hands are shaking. Light has to force himself to breathe when L meets his eyes.

"Say something."

And L crawls across the bed to him slowly, not breaking eye contact with gray-black certainty and terror. Light sees the monster reflected, _He's afraid of me, afraid of how I can hurt him._ _As he should be_. The last thought has the barest trace of pleasure in it, but then L surprises him. He stops, just within a breath's distance of Light, and looks away. When L opens his eyes, there is a frantic relief in them.

"I hadn't realized I loved you until you put it into words," L forces the words out like a torn page. Light freezes in disbelief.

"You're not afraid?"

L does look him in the eye then, and it swallows up everything that he is, there is no Death Note, no infinitely well-meant plans laid careful, no brutal murder-blood, no life, no death. They grasp black at him, promise him nothing but beg for everything, "I try to be, but I can't. Not anymore."

L places one hand carefully over Light's heart, the other over his neck, thumb gently tipping Light's chin into the kiss. His lips are soft and cool, describing trust with the curve of his tongue, promising retribution with the corners of his teeth. It's too soft, too gentle and Light drinks it, drowns in it, until it feels like he can breathe again. They undress each other carefully, L's wide eyes taking him in like a fascinating, delicate thing.

"I feel I know exactly what I did to deserve someone like you. And I don't regret any of it." L whispers, kissing Light's collarbones gently.

"And you still want me?"

"Although I knew it would damn me; always."

L touches him like a watchmaker, taking him apart piece by piece until Light doesn’t know how he fit together without L’s fingers in his hair, L’s tongue on his back, L’s mouth covering his own. He touches L back in dialogue, gently as he hasn’t since the first time, guiding their bodies together slowly, finding a rhythm that stops time for them both, if only for a moment.

It rolls over them sweet in the taste of L’s lips, and L clings to him as they fall past eternity, back into the heartbeat-promise life forces on them. Light doesn’t resent it.

Later, when the sweat cools on their skin, L extracts himself gently from Light's arms to hunch over the glow of the laptop screen. _So much for sleep_ , Light ruefully turns over to stare. L looks so beautifully ridiculous, naked and white-glowing, finger at his lips, that Light laughs. L looks back at him and smiles young, _as if it will always be just us, as if we have a chance beyond tomorrow._ Perhaps it's true. Light shuffles over with a blanket, and curls himself around L in retaliation.

"I think I work better on a slight deficiency of sleep," L traces Light's spine absently. They hold the moment for a while, L occasionally flipping through images on the screen, Light equally lost in thoughts of what lies ahead.

"You'll keep your promise, won't you?" Light murmurs, breath tickling at L's toes.

"Both of them," L's voice is steel, as he cards his fingers through Light's hair. Light puts a hand over his cool foot, recalling a memory just as sleep drags him under.

"Do you believe in redemption, L Lawliet?"

As an answer, a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead, like a blessing.

* * *

_February 13 2006_

_L_

_Most of the memories I have of before the Death Note are grey. The moments while I was Kira are vivid, a sharp, red blur. The moments between—when I didn’t have the Note—are tainted with color. It’s almost painful to remember them. Before, I hadn’t realized I was capable of caring so much about anything, any case, any person._

_Just as I never thought I could be a murderer, could be a god before either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is nearing its end! (Er, Near pun only slightly intended. And somewhat apologized for). It's fun when you get to a point where you can be a little self-referential with your work. 
> 
> Random thought, I found this neat site while researching a few chapters ago, and it seemed like a good time to share it: http://nuclearsecrecy.com/nukemap/  
> How much would a nuclear bomb damage your hometown? You can find out, if you wondered.
> 
> Chapter theme is Patrick Wolf's 'Wind in the Wires'. The lyrics and instrumentals feel like the strange turning point that the characters have come to here. 
> 
> Huge shoutout to Iamnumber3 and dingo12, who left comments that helped me see the sunshine in the last chapter. I'm actually rather fond of it now, with time (and sleep). Sometimes it's all to easy to get caught up in self-doubt, so I really do appreciate all who have commented/kudos/bookmarked this knot-work tale so far. Thanks for sticking with me!


	9. silver to heart

_It starts as a giggle in the darkness, dank and underground, two kilometres deep and it echoes. At first the timbre is female, but another voice laughs in dialogue. Something in the intimate familiarity of that voice picks up his feet, forces them to the axle of the narrow train tracks in the tunnel._

_Light Yagami runs, tasting Kira’s laugh on his lips. A flutter of crows assaults his vision, feathers painting it all black, and he rises up on Shinigami wings.  The rush of ecstasy flashes through him, wings catching fire, golden and untouchable. The brightness casts no glare on the tunnel’s walls, save for a man, black hair matching a black leather book. The wings crumble to ash, and he is tumbling, gazing through grey eyes who watch him fall._

_He wants to call out to him, call out his name, but he doesn’t remember._

_The book opens to a name on a page, and Light tries to squeeze his eyes shut, but he sees, knows._

_And then the laughter, louder, pealing like triumphant bells…_

Light wakes with his hand pinning a white wrist to a black leather book, a scream on his lips. L catches his other arm just as it reaches for his neck.

"Light." L's urgent voice balms his screaming consciousness. He loosens his grip on L's wrist, focusing on his breathing.

"Nightmare?"

Light nods, getting his heartbeat under control. _I’m not Kira. L is safe. For now, we’re both safe._ L folds Light’s hand down to the bed, rubbing circles on his wrists. _For how long?_ He forces his voice to steady, fighting the memory of laughter, "I used to get them a lot, during...Kira. Still do, occasionally."

"One of many reasons I sleep very little. I find if you deprive yourself of sleep just enough, you dream of nothing. It's a fine line behind that and the hallucinations, though."

Light nearly flinches at the casual resignation in L’s voice, "That’s really not healthy.”

“Probably not, no, but that’s not important.”

“It is,” Light states it so impulsively that he sees shock reverberates over L’s features. He watches their bare feet for a moment, dangling over the bedside, “Let’s get that sorted out after all this is over. For both of us.”

L laughs, not entirely unkindly, “You always did have the strangest pillow talk.”

“You have two promises to me, let me make one.”

L gives him a sad smile, "I'd like that. But that's if."

"What do _you_ think our chances are?"

"For once, I don't want to think about it," L passes the notebook to Light, which he realizes by weight and texture is not his Death Note, "This might help our chances, though. It's a forgery of the original, which should buy you time with Noelle. She'll be curious about how you kill, and why you need a name."

The forgery is quite excellent for the work of a few hours, with subtle differences in the paper pulp and a notable lack of letters. The names still whisper to him _as a triumph, as a death sentence_ , and he remembers the burn of wings, a smile on his lips before Light can stop himself. L stares at him, pressing a finger to his lips for a moment.

“It’s a good idea.” Light manages to keep his voice even, places the facsimile carefully on the bedside. L nods sharply, almost goes to move, but Light pulls back his hand, "What time is it?"

"Two-forty five."

 "So we have three hours then," Light hesitates a moment, "Sleep with me?"

"For tonight."

L folds into the cradle of Light's body, Light wrapping his arms up tight until they make a chrysalis among the blankets.  Their two heartbeats are dissonant, but slow carefully against the sound of crickets in the evening. The spine against him bends, and he tightens his grip around L, letting the sigh of his teeth graze shoulder blades.

"Shhh, Kira. It's only till morning."

The name, and the gentle, half-sleeping way L states it pushes the nightmares of wings out of his mind. _The new world Kira wants-- that I wanted-- it's waiting._ Light closes his eyes under L’s pulse, and lets sleep metamorphose them to morning. It comes too soon, waking him suddenly in the feather-touch of first dawn. _L Lawliet_. His mind whispers against the heartbeat of the man curled against his chest. Light sits up, and L follows immediately.

“It’s time,” L states, and the way his eyes flatten out prickles murderous over Light’s skin. _It’s so much like the way he used to look at me, like a personal challenge, or a bug on a slide._ The two of them dress in silence, Light shuffling the false Death Note underneath his clothes like a phantom limb. The real Death Note L places in a hidden safe in the room. _Will it be secure there? Will Near and Mello be able to access it?_

 “The safe is biometrically locked to my hands, and extremely difficult to destroy.” L answers his question without Light having to say a word. A distantly familiar wave of animosity washes over Light, “Do you have what you need?”

Light nods, and L exits grimly, motioning for him to follow. In the Reading Room, Near’s magnetic structure has morphed into a replica of the underside of the mine-turned-laboratory, with small screens taking the place of the major experiment hubs. The screens show a cutaway of the real lab security cameras, cavernous, but brightly lit. Matt is sprawled across the desks, four laptops and one desktop deep with wires around his wrists.

“Is Mello in position?” Near mumbles, fidgeting with a magnet.

“Right in one, boss,” Matt throws him a reassuring smile, “Mells, give us everything you’ve got for bugs, blueprints, network configurations, well, you know what you’re doing.”

“Keep an eye out for vulnerabilities to acoustic cryptanalysis, and relay any interesting numerical patterns in data to Near. Or myself,” L exchanges a dark nod with Near.

Matt repeats the information with a smile, “He says Roger that, L.”

“Matt, provide Light with his disguise, as well as L,” Matt nods to Near and produces two laughably grotesque masks, one a caricature of L, the other a masked man no doubt meant to represent Kira.

“You have got to be kidding.” Light picks up the mask gingerly, _it looks like something a child would wear._

“You must avoid being identified for as long as possible. I would have thought you would understand the importance of that, Light,” Near allows himself a smirk, “Besides, they’ll make you look more comical, less threatening.”

Light gives L a half-imploring look. L shrugs, "I don't like it either, but psychologically, it's a smart move."

“You’ll also need this,” Matt produces a straightjacket, "but there's a catch. If you need to get out for any reason, your right hand will be sitting on a wire. Pull on it, and it'll disable the latches.”

“Seeing as she believe Kira to have godlike powers, she won’t question it if you need to get yourself out,” Near places colored marbles into the magnetic structure, “Still, it would be best not to reveal this unless absolutely necessary. You need to hold their attention for a minimum of half an hour. When we’ve disabled their communications and sorted out the missiles, we’ll retrieve you.”

L nods at Near sharply as he helps Light into the straightjacket. He's calm as L's sharp but deft fingers run over him. _I suppose it's not the first time I've gone under his confinement,_ Light shivers against a wave of anger as L cinches the bindings.

Near nods approvingly, "Excellent. The black coupe in the front is yours. Get going."

Seated at the front of the car, Light watches L's hand hesitate, once only over the keys.

"Light, if we don't -- If I don't --"

"Don't." Light cuts over him sharply. If he could move his hands, he would squeeze L's fingers painfully tight. He settles for a flinty stare.

"You're right," L almost smiles, pulls the car onto the road, "Thank you. For everything. There's no one I'd rather go into battle with, my friend."

Light almost chokes on a mixture of melancholy and terror, but L has already looked away. He's about to say something when a message cuts over his thoughts.

"L? This is M,"

L turns sharp-eyed to the dash, "Is there a problem?"

"N thought you might take a look at this," the screen flashes with a graph structure, knotted and multicolored, "Matt confirmed that we could permute the positionings overtop of a map, but the encryption style is escaping him."

"N has thought of RSA, no doubt. I would bank on a unique key for each node, connected together by a single key that completes the scattering."

"There are about 5 locations there--"

"But we can work with two keys, and our confirmation will be a pinpoint at Capreol, and one at SNOLAB. I would bet on the others being meetin places, possibly a biological research lab. Still, if they're additional nuclear bases, RSA keys aren't cracked in a few hours, or even a few days. We need more time."

“If I can get roughly five seconds with a resonator next to the mainframe, it will be enough for Matt to work with, and we would be eighty percent more certain when we take communications down.”

Light sees the way the options tick over L's eyes. _The speed and certainty would be invaluable information. But it puts Mello, and maybe even L in a very dangerous position_.

“There's too much unknown about how much risk you'd be taking on, for the entire operation," L bites his thumb to the quick.

“I thought you might say that, but long term decisions, L. Final call rests with me, now, and I’m going to have to go for that eighty percent.”

"M, I really think this is too much of a risk—“

"Don't worry about me, L." Mello's voice hisses and crackles over the radio, "the stakes are too high for that.” The feed cuts out, and L tightens his fingers ethereal-white on the wheel. 

“It’s alright,” Light tries for reassurance, _though everything is chaos, and nothing could be more of a lie,_ “Mello can handle himself, I’m sure.”

“Don’t  give me that false optimism now, Kira,” L’s gaze is hard along the road, “I need your venom, your charm, and I need it real.”

Light simply sits in silence, L’s words crystallizing over his mind.

“Are you afraid?” L speaks softly after some time

“No. But I think I should be.”

“Good.” L catches his gaze hard, “Remember my terms. Whatever the cost."

“You once said we would share the same fate.”

“I meant it.”

The coordinates lead L off-road to a large field, with a fenced-off steel pad in the middle. “Masks,” L states dully, and wraps the child’s plaything over Light’s face before covering his own. Through the obscurity of the plastic, Light watches L drive through the open fence directly overtop of the metal. When the car comes to a stop, they wait for a tense half-moment before the ground rumbles underneath them, and the car begins to descend.

"Showy."

 _This coming from the man who had a fifteen-story building made for eleven people,_ Light thinks, but the words are stuck in his throat. The floor lowers darker, deeper, further into a cavernous area not unlike Light’s dream. Light flinches when a low, deep, sound reverberates through the cavern.

L steps out of the car with the dispassionate grace of a master detective, looking expectantly before pulling out his suspect (with soft and careful fingertips despite himself). In a moment two large men and a dangerous looking woman are on them, guns trained sharp and steady.

“I’m unarmed.” L drawls. The men take up on either side of the two prisoners, clearly not knowing what to make of the masks.

They are led past monstrous metal experiments, a clean laboratory, a cavernous railway track that Light recognizes from blueprints of the space. The tight, metal door they pass through with biometric security opens up to a large control room. Screens glow with images from around the world, people huddled and staring at something. A collective gasp ripples through them as the dim lighting falls over the two of them. _They’re the Kira cult. And they can see everything we do_. Light’s heart picks up pitch, as he turns to see the wicked, hungry eyes of Noelle Linneaus from across the room. Afixed to the hand that L shot is a detailed metal hand, tapping its functionality impatiently on the table.

“Remove their masks,” Noelle scrutinizes them, eyes shaded, from a distance. She exudes power, desire, and a strange humility. Light is thrown with a wave of hatred stronger than he’s ever felt, excluding perhaps the first night he met Lind L. Tailor. He struggles not to let it show on his face. _Look grateful, let her think you’re with you, then take what she has, stop her_. He forcibly slows down his thoughts, willing himself to think strategically, _not murderously_. The masks fall to the floor, rippling a gasp through the crowd.

“That’s him. Get him out of that straightjacket,” Noelle orders, mechanical hand clenched tight, “And place it on L.”

 _What a childish decision_ , the equally childish part of Light laughs in memory, _I’m surrounded by fools_. The men carefully unhook the restraints from him, and force them onto L. L’s face is a mask of defeat, but underneath it Light can tell he is shaken by the cameras. The eyes on him give Light strength. Noelle offers a hand carefully to him.

“It is my blessing to have you here, Kira.”

“The honor is all mine, Ms?”

“Noelle,” she breathes, “Noelle Linneaus.”

 _Play the crowd_ , “Your devotion to the new world is unparalleled, Noelle Linneaus. You will be truly honored by --”

A sudden crash reverberates through the tunnels, and the screens go blank one by one. “The mainframe security, now!” two of the guards follow Noelle’s command without hesitation.

“I expected something to this effect,” Noelle glares at L, reaches for the keyboard furiously, but Light latches on to her wrist.

“If I understand correctly what you plan to do, wait. My judgment must be acted upon in the appropriate way, and with the appropriate discretion.”

Her gaze softens, though he can tell she remains suspicious, “Of course, Kira-deity. Your word is will. Let me check up on system communications.”

Light nods sharply, hoping they haven’t misjudged the timing. _Mello is supposed to monitor our activity—but would he have known to bug this room?_

“The broadcast system is down, but all other communications are live. We’ll relay the recording of your triumph to followers of your word after your victory. I’ve sent in a call for additional reinforcements, and repairs.” Noelle turns with a sick grin to L, “Ready for your command, Kira-deity.”

Light keeps a triumphant smirk on his face, as he glances over to L. _Could this have been Matt’s gambit? Have we already lost?_ L’s face is perfectly blank, erasing any trace of evidence for either him or Noelle. Anxiety gathers in the back of his stomach, churning against excitement. _._ A breath of a moment later, his anxiety twists to dread as the guards drag a half-conscious Mello into the control room.

 

* * *

 

_December 14 2004_

_L,_

_I thought about burning the Death Note today, but that seemed too much like killing myself._

_I’ve been spending a lot of time at the tower. It reminds me of what I have to lose. Or what I’ve lost._

* * *

 

An eerie sense of calm steals over L as he watches Mello stagger forward, hand bloody (his undamaged eye still screaming fiery defiance). L lets panic, defeat, _fear_ flicker staged over his face. Noelle’s mechanical hand clenches triumphant, she throws back her head and laughs the Shinigami death-rattle.

“And the last pawn falls. Oh, you played a long game, L, but the world doesn’t deserve you and your playmates anymore.”

"Really?" L taunts calmly (fingering the marionette-strings he has left to pull on), “So they’ll have to make do with just you.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I would think you might consider yourself one of us, Ms. Watson, considering who you learned from.”

"You think the name 'Carol Watson' means anything to me, you're desperate."

“Why go through so much trouble to hide your true name?” L searches for pressure points (something he always has had a talent for), “You must know that Kira needs a name to kill. Were you afraid of judgment from your own _god_? Perhaps you should think twice before aligning yourself with the man who condemned over a thousand to death.”

"And all of them deserving of it."

"You know, Carol, it truly is a shame you didn't learn anything about justice at Wammy's," L plays the crowd, plays it bored, "your skills otherwise are considerable."

Her face twists at the sideways compliment, “I learned everything I needed to know to destroy you, and everything sick Wammy’s stood for. Competing like it was a prize to succeed your twisted legacy."

“Is this man some kind of apprentice to L?" Light feigns confusion (tastefully measured to keep her talking, buy them time).

"Oh, that's just the tip of the iceberg," Noelle addresses Light-Kira with a mixture of excited anger and terrified reverence, "L collects orphaned geniuses and raises them to fight for the privilege of his job."

"Do you consider it a privilege?" L smirks mockingly (knowing it will keep her volatile), "I consider it more of a calling. For justice."

Noelle slams her flesh hand against the countertop, “You don’t know anything about justice! It’s always been a lie to you, just a game! People are dying. And it doesn’t have to be that way. Not if justice prevails.”

"Kira is justice," Light places his hand overtop hers (projecting hubris that makes L want to slam him against the wall, despite how smart a move it is). She predictably relaxes underneath his fingertips.

"Thank you," Noelle stares at Kira’s gaze, "For opening my eyes. Yes, L, I can admit it now. I wanted to be you. I wanted to claim justice for my own. But I came to realize... the only thing you disgusting freaks were ever good at was destruction. Plaster the sore and call it justice, but let it fester so that there will still be a game to play in a few months time. We could have ended it at any point. K tried, I heard, and of course, dear B," she laughs the Shinigami-laugh, B's laugh, “It wasn’t quite enough. But _Kira_. Kira gave us _cleansing._ Kira was a call-to-arms against the world's warped justice. And I'll be damned if I let the world turn against the God who will save us."

"You have been the one brave enough to answer that call," Light's spine is straight, his hands open in invitation (his eyes shining Kira's firebird-song), "The truth is, Noelle Linnaeus, that I have been waiting for two years for those who love justice to join my new world. You have been my Oracle-- and I the the saviour of the new world," Light is transfixing, an archangel offering the hand of the devil.

"Kira-deity," she whispers with reverence, "Is it true? You waited for my appearance?"

"You have served the gods well, to be raised to new heights as we create this world together. You, by my side," He reaches for her hand, brings it to his lips and she weaves at the knees, swooning. _Light plays the part well, always has_ , L thinks (with a trace of bitter gall that reminds him of two years gone).

“But first, we destroy L, and everything he stands for."

Light twitches in his manic grin, shades his eyes over with false disappointment, "There’s a detail that we’re missing here, if I am to fully judge L. I require his true name.”

“I ascertained as such, Kira-deity,” she hesitates before asking, “Why?”

Light keeps his gaze taunting on L (plastic, but with an edge), “Others have been curious about that too, but none too open minded.” He reaches under his white shirt for the leather-bound book, produces it for Noelle’s  hungry gaze.

"This is more than simply a ledger for justice," Light's voice is strangely vulnerable as he runs his hand over the pages, “Any name that is written, of any evildoer, will die of a heart attack. It is how I was chosen to cleanse the world.”

"And the reason you need a name to kill. Kira-deity. Do you know L's true name?"

"I do not." Light states it with the bitterness of a god admitting weakness (ever the consummate liar), but Noelle smiles (slow and sick with victory).

"I do," L and Light both turn in shock, "Heard it from the Beyond once. L Lawliet," she giggles, and L catches the flash of murder in Light's eyes (brief as a candle flame). The shock in L's own face is only half-feigned.

"Impossible," Light-Kira breathes (veneer crackling from excitement to fury), then gathers himself, "Incredible. Now, I may enact perfect judgment." Light stares at L for a moment, and he nods with his eyes (Light's harden back).

"If you will allow me a moment," he steps away from Noelle, Slowly, carefully, a name is penned onto the page, “Thirty seconds now, and judgement will take effect.”

Kira-Light takes her hand carefully (a shudder in his muscles), and L counts the way the seconds tick over in his eyes (knowing it may be a matter of seconds after a staged death before a true death finds him). In the final seconds, Light glances at him terrified, but L nods (fates entwined, at least by the bells). A moment later (ten seconds too soon), Noelle pulls away from her God with a gasp.

Her eyes seize up a moment, she chokes (impossibly) on her breath, then falls to the ground, scrabbling at her chest (her last glance black with betrayal from her only god). L only takes a half a beat to parse the information (shoving back the nauseating sentimentality to black), then he rips the straightjacket across his chest, disarms the two guards once, twice, with bare feet to skull, catching a handgun and training it directly at Kira’s skull (the blood of over a thousand condemning him to keep his word).

Kira, who still stares with a gaze half-exhilaration, half-confusion at the corpse, doesn’t seem to register the turn of events. He looks at the pen in his hands, the name under the ink (as if transfixed by some new power).

“Drop the notebook.” Kira does turn them, stares at him petrified through Light’s eyes (the amber lies).

“L, I didn’t—I couldn’t have—“

“Drop it,” the notebook falls to the floor. L forces himself to draw breath, “You have a right to fair trial, the result of which will be your execution. You do not have the right to an attorney, you do not have the right to remain silent—“

“L, stop this, just let me—“ Light goes to move, and the desperation in it cuts L down to the quick.

"Don’t move a step closer. On your knees.”

"Don't--" Light covers his skull as a warning shot ricochets off the concrete.

"On your knees, _Kira_ ," L spits the word with hated love (cracks in his façade run too deep to plaster over for Kira’s benefit), though he manages to keep his hands steady. _Keep your promise. Keep justice_.

"You don’t understand—I had to, but I didn’t—“

"DON'T make me pull this trigger right now," L screams, tearblown and desperate, fingers beginning to shake against the cool metal.

"I DIDN'T KILL HER—“ 

"STOP, JUST STOP."

"L, lower the gun," a viciously angry monotone cuts through the scene. L doesn't take his eyes off of Kira, (the lies still ringing true in Light-Kira’s desperate golden eyes). His fingers falter for half a moment, _what if they are?_ Very slowly, he turns to see Near, standing at the cavernous entrance with grey-black fury.

"It's not Light."

Near reveals Misa Amane’s Death Note, with the name 'Carol Watson' scrawled on to the open page (black on white, justice has a different name today). _Oh_. The gun loosens, falls to the floor, L's awareness only heartbeats behind it. Near is at Mello’s side in an instant, but L forces his gaze back to Light.

The _ex machina_ shatters underneath him, and he stumbles towards Light, towards Kira, and is caught before his fall. For a moment, he is sustained only on the sound of Light breathing, on the careful thump of the other's heart. Then his hands grip desperate on Light's spine, feeling the hot tears meet on both of their cheekbones.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, once, and once only, and Light simply shakes his head, grips him tighter. They stand that way for a long time (and yet never long enough).

"It's over," Light says the obvious thing (and for once, it's only the obvious L wants to hear).

"Not quite," Near stands, one hand gripped to Mello as Wammy sweeps forward to assess the damage.

"He'll live," Wammy's grim voice cuts sharp relief into L's consciousness, "but we'll need to get him to the hospital immediately to avoid serious nerve damage."

Near turns cotton-pale, but nods as Wammy gathers up Mello's unconscious form. He presses a kiss to Mello's forehead, "Work fast."

"Of course. A helicopter is waiting."

"I'll join after this is tied up, though Matt will go with you." Wammy nods grimly and takes off. Near closes his eyes a moment (gathering his calculative blankness), and then pulls out a phone, talking in a low, frantic voice. L strokes Light's hair absently (the tears and the murder barely fading from his eyes).

"You were perfect," L whispers, trying to stand and not quite managing it for a moment.

" _You_ were." Light gently helps him to his feet, "I thought for a moment I really had killed her."

The false Death Note has the name _L Lawliet_ scrawled over an open page. Light picks it up, tears out the page and folds it into his pocket. Near sweeps over to them.

 "Light, L. I need damage control immediately, and that's Mello's area of expertise. The cultists will have seen your entrance into the mine up to slightly before Mello entered,” here, Near clenches his nails (guilty, but without regrets), “The footage has been intercepted and destroyed, but not before several hundred members might have seen potentially enough to identify the both of you, loosely. Many of them will be arrested and convicted, but many more will walk free. We need to decide _now_ what we present as the truth to those individuals.”

L hesitates (and really, how does one erase so many years faceless), but it is Light who stands, “I think I know what we can do.”

The tale he proposes is a lie spun from the perfect gossamer of truth (and the familiarity of it brings not a bitter twist, but a smile to L's lips).

* * *

 

_January 30, 2006_

_L,_

_I'm not certain of anything I've ever believed in anymore. I'm not certain of my family, not certain of my desires, not even my name._

_The only thing I know is that I want us to meet again someday, if I could ever get there. And if I had the chance to keep it._

_Thinking of you. Obviously._

_Light_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my not-quite-apology for the amount of time it took to write this was that I wanted to post Chapters 9 and 10 at the same time... figured it wasn't worth waiting another two weeks for the concluding remarks/schmoopy epilogues :) (also school started...). Thank you all for sticking around, those who are still here!
> 
> Acoustic cryptanalysis is a real thing and it is COOL STUFF. Also RSA cryptography, but you've likely heard of that. 
> 
> Chapter theme is 'Oblivion' by Patrick Wolf. 
> 
> head on, dear readers :)


	10. the calculation

An L flashes black on white on a screen in a dark mine, and on an analogous screen miles away. From the live feet, titters of excitement and rage wash over from a crowd. Then, a voice speaks (clear and divine with certainty):

 _"Supporters of Kira. Some of you may believe to have seen L today. Some of you may believe to have seen Kira. All of you were expecting a murder today,”_ a breath through the microphone, _“Some of you may have expected the end of the world, or the world created anew. But you were deceived. And in doing so you supported one of the largest threats to the stability of the world since Kira himself was caught. Despite what you may believe. I am known as K, my colleague as R._ ” Two images, superficially similar to L and Light but altered in the subtleties, flash onto the screen, “ _Together, we investigate threats to the security of the world under L.”_

 _“What you saw today was a component of our investigation. The nuclear threat has been disabled. Several major countries, including your own, wish to be made aware of the perpetrators.”_ More noise sounds from over the feeds, with an increased panic, _"Let me say this about Kira. I investigated his case in order to take him down, but I once believed very deeply in his brand of justice. Kira, the man, was a selfish individual who cared only for his own gain. Kira, the god, was an idea that reduced crime to almost negligible levels for over a year."_

A hush falls over the crowd as Light's voice resonates over them, " _I understand your passion for goodness, for justice. But know this: Justice that comes from passion is rarely truly justice. Justice that comes from pride is never justice. Do not be seduced by it. L may enact the will of justice-- but the decisions of justice rest with all of us. I once believed it was good, honest people who make the world a better place. Though justice will always be a necessary force, the everyday actions of people like you make it less necessary.”_ The whispers of activity are met with a shout that hushes over the crowd. The police forces have made it to the cult-gathering. The murmur of the crowd grows to a dull roar, punctuated by screams. But a hush grows as the L on the screen flickers to a K. _“Look to your own. Think for yourselves. It is from those thoughts that good, honest people arise. I hope we don’t have to meet again.”_

Light Yagami (god and murderer and genius), shuts down the broadcast with the push of a button. He’s a gorgeous statue of triumphant divinity, and L wishes (not for the first time) to be a painter, a writer, an artist of any talent for immortalizing perfect moments.

"Though I don't approve of your methods, I can respect the results." Near says quietly to L.

"I could say the same to you," L murmurs, glancing sidelong at Noelle's corpse.

"I said we'd take care of it."

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Not yet," Near sweeps towards the door, "Mello and I have yet to decide what becomes of you and Light. Then you can decide whether you want to thank me."

L catches the hard look in Near’s eyes (grey-black obsidian), and nods sharply. He strides over to Light, who stands straight and proud (eyes sky-high on adrenaline), “Well done, Kira-kun. How do you feel?”

Light smiles, twisted and powerful, as if he can’t bring himself to get annoyed with L, “Brilliant.”

“You _were_ brilliant, K,” L laces his fingers into Light’s, kisses him softly, “We should go.”

"Mello?"

L nods grimly, following Near out the door. They drive out to a long wait in the emergency room in silence. Matt is waiting tearstained when they arrive, and envelops Near, who presses a hand to his back.

"Shh. Mello will be fine."  Matt half-nods, half sobs, but his shaking subsides as Near runs a hand down his back.

“Are you alright?” Light whispers gently to L.

L half-smiles (strangely comfortable), “I trust Watari, trust Wammy. And I trust Mello. The worst is over. You’re here. We’re all here.”

Still, the wait is long, and the hospital walls are so white it doesn't even suit Near. A few hours tick by in what feels like the span of several days. Then Wammy steps out, accompanied by a doctor.

“He can take visitors now. He’s in some degree of pain, but the medication should help.” Wammy steps aside as Near and Mello hurry into the room. L holds back, catching the older man’s arm gently.

“L,” Wammy is never one to waste words (ever the economist, the inventor), “It is good to see you again. Exemplary work.”

“Thank you,” L says softly (realizing then how much he had missed thanking the old man), “I believe I may have missed you.”

Wammy grasps his hand, somewhere between a handshake and a gesture of affection, “The organization certainly missed you, as did I.” His eyes crinkle in the familiar way, and L laughs (with a sudden desire for cake and good company), “I’ll have to congratulate Light as well. Or should I say, K.”

Wammy does offer his hand to Light then, who shakes it, “Thank you. It’s been an honor to work with the organization.”

“Of course. If I can get you anything, please let me know.”

“Perhaps coffee while we wait?” L takes a seat (knowing the three of them will have much to discuss).

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Wammy nods at L, “Do you take yours black, Light?”

“I do.”

They’re halfway through the steaming mugs when Near comes to the door, “You can come in, if you like.”

The hospital room is clean, and surprisingly cheery with Matt tangled around Mello in the center of the bed. Mello’s face is half-covered in bandages, but he’s holding Matt’s hand, deep in conversation.

“… it’ll be scarring, Matt, but you’ll have to deal with my marred face.” he looks like he’s trying to manage a smile (without wincing).

“You know I’ll love you no matter what you look like, Mell. Besides, scars are sexy.”

Mello blushes underneath his bandages, noticing the two visitors. “Hey, Light, L.”

“Best go with Ryuzaki for now. How are you feeling, Mello?” L sits gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Better. A little loopy, but nothing I haven’t had before. For what it’s worth, I made the right call. I got the RSA keys to Matt just before the security kicked in. Explosives though… I barely got out in time, and only then because I recognized the design as one of Wammy’s.”

“Flair for the dramatic. Although it does seem Ms. Watson made skillful use of the information from the Qnet.”

“If anything,” Near drawls from the door, “This case has shown just how powerful the ideas from our organization can be in the wrong hands. Speaking of which, we've come to a conclusion. It was unanimous, actually. L will stay on as a consultant for cases, but all priority will pass to myself and Mello. For Light, he will remain L's partner and responsibility," Near tightens a finger around his hair, "If anything, the events of today have shown that both of you are up to making the right calls, if need be."

The strangest feeling of symmetry crawls over L (fearful yet calm), as he nods softly. _Chained together in purpose after all, I suppose_. “I could agree to that.”

“I should hope so,” Near states with (barely-affectionate) dismissal, “Matt and I will stay here until Mello is stable enough to return in a few hours. In a meantime, Wedy can provide you with accounts of the Marish Lake dismantling, which should be concluding in a few hours. If you can manage that from the safe house, I will keep up with the legal cases from the arrests of over a hundred Kira-cultists around the world.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for any cases that seem critical,” L nods, and Near smiles (almost grateful) at him.

“Thank you.”

Back at the safe house, Light tracks around L with delicate reverence (neither of them having quite accepted the possibility of survival). They speak very little, but keep their hands clasped tight as they wander inside. For a moment, both of them simply stare at the dust motes moving in the low light of the sun.

"I should call my lab, apologize for the missed days," Light says softly.

"Yes. You'll have a few months before we should relocate, go into hiding. We might be doing that for a while." There are so many words stuck in his throat (and the whispers from Light's letters are swirling over his heart tight to burst).

"Yes." Light smiles (sunrise-bright), and picks up his cell phone. L lets go of his hand reluctantly, then wanders upstairs to the quiet of the Reading Room. Running his fingers over the dusty spines, he searches for words to describe the thoughts that he can't quite articulate. Settling on an old leather tome, he has a sudden inspiration.

In their room (how quickly he had began to think of it as _theirs)_ L gingerly removes a page from the Death Note. He scrawls a brief collection of words (that seem to fit with the kaleidescope of emotions whirling under his fingertips), then blots the page black until nothing but the letter can be read.

"L?" Light calls from the bottom of the stairs (a slight note of worry in his voice).

"Bedroom, upstairs."

Light hovers by the doorframe when he arrives. L stares (black-eyed and expectant, but also afraid), and Light seems, for once, at a loss for words. Walking over to him slowly, L puts a hand carefully to his neck (half expecting him to slip through his fingers like hourglass sand). L presses the book to his chest.

"Dante's _Inferno_?"

“ _The Divine Comedy_ , complete.” L hesitates as Light curls an arm around his waist, “Read to me?”

Light nods slowly, opens the book to the first page, bookmarked by a letter. The words in it are simple, but Light's face softens beautifully as he reads them. L catches his eye (questioning, careful) and Light doesn't hesitate then to kiss him breathless (in answer).

It’s a while before they get to reading Dante, but for once, they have all the time in the world.

* * *

 

_Light,_

_Come burn the world with me._

_L_

* * *

 

The next two months fly by faster than Light believed possible. Back in Japan, him and L set up camp in a new apartment, use his lab for forensic work. There are cases by day, and warm whispers in his ear by night. There are days where the stories from cases grit into Light's desire for blood and purity, but L sits him down and reads him tales of humanity, or else writes them into his skin. There are other days where L curls into numbness, but Light coaxes him to eat cherry cake and holds him until the color bleeds back into the world. Some days they have screaming matches over rainbow sprinkles in the kitchen sink, then laugh about it over tea and murder profiles that evening. It's not all beautiful, and none of it is perfect, but none of it is boring.

On this day, the apartment is pristine in its barrenness, most of the furniture sold, the rest to be left to the new renters. They’ll be on the move for the next few years, laying low until what’s left of the post-Kira Conspiracy case fades. A knock sounds at the door. Light looks up from his closet, the contents of which are currently strewn across his bed. _How on earth did I acquire so many clothes?_ He glances at the tiny backpack that normally contains virtually all of L's possessions and shakes his head.

"Rue," he calls into the bathroom, "Are you done in there yet?"

"Solving the Galmo case, busy. Come in and look at this."

"I'm packing, I've already washed my hair, and Watari will be here in less than an hour. Have you packed yet?," another knock, this time more insistent, "Also, someone's at the door."

"Take the usual precautions."

"Of course." Light puts his eye to the viewer just outside the door. He opens it, just slightly.

"Sayu?"

"Hey, Light." his sister looks older, presentable in her dark skirt and blazer, "How are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye, of course. You said you didn't know when you'd be back," she smiles, a little bit tensely, "And, uh. Dad is here."

Light opens the door further to face his father, standing neatly dressed and straight-backed, though with more gray at his temples, lines carved in his face. _He looks so much... older than I remember._

"Hello, Light."

"Dad."

"Can we come in?" Sayu asks quietly, after a long moment.

"Yeah," Light nods and opens the door, leading them into the kitchen, "Can I offer you some tea?"

"That would be nice, thank you," Souichirou states gruffly, and Light is surprised to hear a distinct lack of judgment in his tone. Light busies himself with the kettle.

"How's school? Mom tells me you're doing well, looking at studying history when you go to college?”

She brightens visibly, glad that he remembers, “Yes! It’s so interesting! Ancient history especially. Mom's sorry she couldn't come today, but she wants you to see her as well.”

“Tell her I’ll give her a call before I go."

"So, do you know yet how long will you be gone for?" Sayu asks with a lilt of concern.

"To tell you the truth, Sayu, with my new job I might not stay in the same place for long. I can't talk about it too much."

"Psh, it's detective work, isn't it?" Sayu gives him a teasing half-smile, "Just like Dad."

Light puts down the mugs slightly harder than is necessary, "Not exactly."

"It's like a game of Cluedo, Light, the maid, in the billiard room, with the ventilation system rigged with carbon monoxide," L strides into the kitchen, hair wild and dripping, wearing only his jeans and his bright mystery eyes, "Oh, hello."

Sayu goggles a moment and then breaks into a grin, "I knew it!"

"Knew what?" L shrugs the towel into his hair, utterly unconcerned.

"Knew I should have been asking Light about a boyfriend." Sayu smiles at him, and Light almost chokes on his own words, manages to cover it up with a cough.

"Light, you didn't mention your family was coming by." L smiles with the air of knowing it was completely unexpected. _I wouldn't be surprised if_ he _expected this_ , Light thinks, torn between exasperation and fondness, "A pleasure to see you, Chief Yagami."

Light's father looks somewhere between confused and bitterly angry. Light stares a moment, surprised that his father’s gaze no longer has any meaningful effect on him. _Perhaps it never really did._

"Rue Ryuzaki." either unaware of the tension or blatantly ignoring it, L offers a hand to Sayu.

"Pleased to meet you Ryuzaki-san." she blushes and bows slightly

"Given the state in which you have currently met me, I think you had better call me Rue," L quirks a smile, "If you will excuse me a moment."

L exits, stage left, with the ghost of a laugh in his wake. A brief silence falls over the room.

"I like him," Sayu nods, eyeing L's back, "He's strange-looking, but he has a nice body. And he seems smart.”

Light gapes a moment at Sayu’s nonchalance, then realizes his father is wearing an equally stunned expression. He starts to laugh, at first at his father, then at himself, and it bubbles over him in a way that is both warm and terrifying at once. Sayu giggles back, though she does look mildly disconcerted.

“He certainly is that,” Souichirou finds his voice, gruff but knotted up in an emotion that Light cannot place.

"So you do know him from work!"

"Yes." Light and his father share a dark glance.

“That’s better, isn’t it,” L, now clothed, sweeps into the room, raiding the pantry for an assortment of sweets, “Can I offer you some licorice? I am fond of these Swedish berries, however, you may have to fight me for them.”

“Thank you, Ryu—uh, Rue,” Sayu plays with her hair carefully, taking a piece of licorice, and regarding L with interest. Souichirou takes the tea from Light with a soft nod.

L widens his eyes, “I can see you’re already looking to question me in all respects about whether or not I am good enough for Light. Would you like to help me finish Light’s packing for him?”

“What? I’m almost finished. Are you packed?”

“I’m always packed. It will be much faster if you simply let me decide which clothing you do and do not need. It will help you reach the state in which packing is no longer necessary."

"Your idea of packing is leaving an empty suitcase in which to store candies from where we go," Light rolls his eyes.

"And evidence, Light, always evidence."

"Yeah, that's my job."

"Banter like a married couple, check," Sayu grins like she can't keep it off her face, "I'd love to help you pack, Rue."

Sayu stands, giving Souichirou a meaningful look. Light almost laughs, _She’s got Mom’s personality, and Dad’s sense of what’s right_. The bedroom door closes behind the two of them, with the murmur of conversation. Looking at his father, however, the words dry up in Light’s throat.

Souichirou clears his throat sharply, “How long have you two been…?”

 _Two years_ , Light thinks, “Two months, roughly. A case brought us together again.”

“Ah,” Souichirou sips his tea, clearly uncomfortable, then sets it down harder than is necessary, “Is this why you were so angry? You thought we wouldn’t accept that you were…?”

The word comes a beat too late from his father, “Gay? Could you have?” he waits a moment to note the angry twist in his father’s lips, then relents, “No, it wasn’t. I’d been angry for a long time before that.”

His father hesitates over a curl of steam from the tea, "Light-- you didn't have to push us away. You know all we wanted was for you to be happy."

“Happiness wasn’t really something I thought was important, Dad.”

“I’m sorry,” Souichirou turns away for a moment, and Light stares at him in shock, “I think you might get that from me.”

Light stays silent, taps his fingers on the heat of his mug, “There are a lot of things more important than that, and I’m grateful you taught those to me. Justice. And honesty.”

Souichirou stares for a moment, tears crinkling at the corners of his eyes, “Thank you, son.” Light sits opposite his father, and they simply drink in silence for a while.

"But you're happy, Light?"

"Sometimes, absolutely," Light hesitates, words from Mello turning over in his head, "More than that, I'm whole. And I'm still working for justice." _like you wanted. Like I wanted._

"I presume he's stopped accusing you of being Kira," Souichirou is serious even in his humor, but the statement doesn't sting as it would have a month ago.

"We're past that now."

"Are you working for him?"

"Let's just say that if you run into me professionally, you might know me as K."

Souichirou raises an eyebrow, but deigns not to speak as Sayu and L sweep back into the room, suitcase in tow. Sayu is practically glowing, and L has a cheeky half-smile playing on his lips.

“And you like to bake?”

“When I have time, more recently. I have a bit of a predisposition towards sweet things. Previously I had my butler attend to such tasks, but I actually find it helps me think, especially if I have Light to work with.”

“Oh well that’s wonderful, Mum is always saying he doesn’t eat enough while he’s working,” Sayu winks at Light, who groans. _Still my little sister. And with L for_ god’s _sake._

“We should go, Rue,” he addresses his sister and father, “Our car will be here soon, if you want to see us off.”

Both of them nod, and follow Light downstairs to the shimmering sunset. The half-light casts shadows in the puddles gathered along the roadside. Light thinks of the radio tower, and wonders if he and L will ever spend time there together, later on. _They’ll be plenty of time for that in a few years_.

 “You have the number you can reach me at, but don’t call me except in an emergency. I’ll send letters and emails when I can.” Light finishes, and Sayu throws her arms around him, “Work hard at college, Sayu.”

“I will. I’ll miss you Light. Love you!”

Light softens into the hug, “Love you too.”

Sayu also turns to L with a shy half smile, then hugs him, “Take good care of Light!”

“Of course. It’s mutual,” L raises his hands slowly to return the hug, “He takes good care of me.”

Light and his father share a somewhat formal nod, “Bye, Dad. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m proud of you, Light,” Souichirou says it out of old habit, but there’s some weight to his words this time, “Ryuzaki—thank you. Please take care of my son.”

“I assure you both, he is perfectly capable of taking care of both himself and me,” L states with a smile on his lips, “All the same, I will do my best. For now, that’s our ride.”

A sleek Rolls-Royce pulls up, eliciting a slight gasp from Sayu. Light waves to her, and winks like he used to when they were younger. L raps on the glass, and it rolls down to reveal gray hair and skinny fingers at the wheel. Light gives the driver a quizzical look, but he just puts a finger to his lip.

"Watari, have arrests been successful for the Galmo case? Also, did you get the coffee orders?"

Matt lowers his glasses to level a glance at L, "Do I look like a butler to you?"

L stops for a half a second, and Light and Matt both burst out laughing.

"Ha, ha, very funny," L puts on a sour face, but Light can see the way his lips twitch, "but did you get the coffee?"

"See for yourself." the passenger door opens to reveal Mello, smiling against the healed scars on his face, and Near lying in his lap, playing Cat's Cradle. Watari produces two coffees, one black, and one with six sugars.

"Excellent, thank you Watari.” L settles with his back to Matt, Light seated next to him amid the tinted windows.

"K, L." Near almost smiles, giving L a respectful nod.

"We came to visit Matt at his conference and thought we might see you off," Mello offers a hand to L.

"Risky, but it's good to see you all." L grasps his hand. _It really is,_ Light smiles, and Mello grins back with a knowing tilt to his lips.

"San Francisco first, presumably?" Light sips at the coffee.

"We'll take separate flights, but yes." Near sits up, passes some documents to Light and L, "As requested."

Light fingers the passport, American driver's license, and birth certificate labelled _Linneaus Himura_. _This will be one of many names I might take._ He glances at L's documents, "Rue Rozovsky?”

"I've become fond of the name.”

“Me too,” Light strokes his arm carefully, “So, where to after San Francisco?”

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” L pulls out a copy of _Crime and Punishment_ for reading on the journey, “But mainly, Light, we’ll go wherever isn’t boring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand roll credits :)
> 
> I'm such a sucker for a happy ending. Even though Light and L are generally both terrible human beings and don't deserve it, I just <3
> 
> I'll add that I was struggling for which book L would choose, and then I thought of '(ninth circle)' by lawlietismyfavourite, and I knew (all of you should go read that, it's a masterpiece).  
> The Divine Comedy is a love story, in part, so it seemed to fit as a whole. 
> 
> Chapter theme is 'the calculation' by who but Regina Spektor, which I think has a lovely Lawlight-fluff vibe. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you all once more who have read, commented, kudos, bookmarked, etc. this story. It's been a pleasure writing this, a pleasure interacting with all the lovely, intelligent people on this site. I'm so happy to have taken this journey, if just to practice spinning out a tale. 
> 
> hope this made you smile!  
> ~~sybilius


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